


He That Believeth In Me

by lls_mutant



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-02
Updated: 2010-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lls_mutant/pseuds/lls_mutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort's reign shattered homes, families, and dreams.  Sirius Black was no exception: once, he'd wanted to be a priest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You want to WHAT?" Professor McGonagall asked, eyes popping out of their sockets. Sirius had never seen McGonagall lose her composure quite like that, and it would be entertaining if he hadn't meant what he said.

"To be a priest," Sirius said, sitting back and crossing his arms smugly, to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with it." Professor McGonagall patted her bun. "But it doesn't seem in character for you, Sirius."

That stung. "I've gone to Mass every single Sunday. Every. Single. One. I was confirmed my third year. I confess every single week." McGonagall snorted, but Sirius ignored her. "I even served as an altar boy, for God's sake. The only other person in Gryffindor- no, in Hogwarts- that even goes to church every Sunday is Lily Evans."

"I'd never be so presumptuous as to question your devotion, Mr. Black," Professor McGonagall said. She looked over the rim of her spectacles knowingly. "It's your _behavior_ that gives me pause."

"Oh. _That._" Sirius grinned devilishly. "Well, I said I wanted to be a priest, not a saint."

***

"Good morning, Heathen!" Sirius said cheerfully, because Sunday mornings were for truces.

"Lovely day, Papist pig!" Lily responded with a grin. She was leaning against the gates to the school, standing slightly apart from the small delegation of students who attended religious services. "So? How did it go?"

"She's still picking her jaw up off the floor," Sirius chuckled. "But she said she'd get me the information I need."

"And Potter?" Lily asked derisively. Sirius didn't answer right away, and Lily's scowl deepened. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

Sirius shrugged helplessly. "He wouldn't believe me." Lily sniffed, and Sirius glared at her. "Hey, when you decide to tell your best friends that you want to be a nun-"

"Ha!"

"Then you can be all sanctimonious at me. But right now, you don't get that honor."

Lily sniffed again. "If I was actually going to lose my mind and be a nun, _my_ friends would believe me."

Sirius thought of Lily's best friend and snorted. "Yeah, right."

***

"Well," Remus said, as they all stepped off the Hogwarts Express for the last time. "That's that."

"We're free men," Peter said, stretching luxuriously. "Well, free until work starts."

"Speak for yourselves," Sirius said laconically. "Some of us aren't going to work."

"You don't mean that, Padfoot," James teased. "You just won't tell us what you're doing."

"Nope. I do mean it. I have no intention of being a broom designer like you, James, or an owl trainer like Peter, or a curse-breaker like Remus wants to be. I'm just going to be for a while."

"You'll get bored," Peter said, his voice heavy with doom. "And when you're bored, things go badly."

"Trust me, Wormtail," Sirius said with a smile. "That won't be possible."

***

There wasn't a wizarding seminary since so few people felt called to the life that it really wasn't worth it. Sirius was grateful that his defiance of his parents had led him to Muggle Studies, because he didn't feel nearly so out of place as he might have when he entered St. John's for the Selection Conference.

He looked around at his fellow potential students, suddenly aware that for the first time he was in a world where he knew no one, and no one knew him. The little world of Wizarding society suddenly seemed so… so incestuous. For a moment, he shrunk back into the leather of his jacket, as nervous as any first year about to be sorted.

Another lad caught his eye. He was tall, with tousled brown hair and the brightest blue eyes Sirius had ever seen. He smiled and winked, and Sirius smiled back.

"Hi. I'm Gabriel." The other boy extended his hand. He was the only other student there wearing denims, and Sirius couldn't help but notice that although they were clean, the knees were worn and the cuffs were frayed. "Gabriel Graham."

"Sirius Black."

"Interesting name."

"My parents are… interesting people." Sirius grinned. "My mother's name is Walburga."

"Oh, that's just wrong!" Gabriel said, recoiling dramatically. He laughed, a warm, all-encompassing laugh that made Sirius relax completely. "So there's some sort of reverse retribution going on."

"Better than prophetic names," Sirius said, thinking of Remus Lupin. But Gabriel grinned again, and Sirius realized that his statement fit more than one person. "So. What happens next?"

"Interviews, I guess? Small group discussions? They were rather vague." Gabriel glanced at another lad who was standing near them, in freshly pressed pants and shiny leather shoes. "I'll be glad when it's over, though, and we know if we're in."

"Me, too," Sirius agreed, fingering his long hair absently. "Definitely."

***

"Mr. Black? I'm Angus McMurray. Please, come this way."

Sirius followed the older gentleman. He'd already talked to his first interviewer about his faith, which had been easy. And he'd talked to the second about Catholic history and his academic achievement in general, discussing the slightly doctored transcript that the Ministry of Magic had helped him produce. Both encounters had been less stressful than an O.W.L. exam, and Sirius was confident he'd made a good impression. He settled down across from McMurray, cheerful and ready to talk.

"How are you doing?" McMurray asked. He was an older man with a kind smile and a gray comb over, dressed conservatively in a button-down shirt, a cardigan, and khaki trousers. Sirius liked his smile very much; it made him think that McMurray must be very good with children.

"All right," he answered.

"It's a long few days, I know," McMurray said. "But I hope you're finding it enjoyable as well."

"I am." Sirius rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans.

"I understand you've talked to Ellen Conrad about the history of the Church and your schooling, and to Father Mackenzie about your faith." Sirius nodded an affirmative. "Good. What I'd like to talk about is something a little more personal. I'd like to know more about your family."

Sirius bit his lip for a moment. "My family."

"Yes. Tell me about them. Start small, if you have to. What do your parents do for a living?"

"They're evil hate-mongering bigots that I left years ago."

McMurray looked a little surprised. "Care to elaborate on that?"

Sirius sighed and sat back, hugging himself. "Look. I know the Bible says _Honor thy mother and thy father_, and I tried, I really did. I stuck it out until I was sixteen, and then when I did leave, I just left. But my parents… they believe that anyone not of _their type_ should be a lesser part of society. Rounded up, denied rights and privileges…. That's something I can't understand, and I can't forgive. Especially because they couldn't forgive me for not believing the same thing."

McMurray was clearly shaken. "Are your parents Nazis?"

"What? Oh, no." Sirius shook his head. "But I guess the closest descriptor would be white supremacists," he said. "It's more of a philosophical belief than a political one."

"I see. And you didn't…"

"Become a supremacist myself?" Sirius looked away. "No." He took several deep breaths, trying to pull together his thoughts. "When I was younger, I did love them. But my father… he didn't tolerate any sort of questioning. Nothing out of line with his beliefs. And when I went to school and made friends with the very sort of people he hated…." He trailed off, staring out the window. Instead of seeing the green world flush with summer's heat, he saw the dark interior of his childhood home and the fury of his parents. He shuddered.

"What about siblings?" McMurray asked softly.

"I have a brother," Sirius said, spitting out the word. "Well, one brother by blood. He's just as bad as my parents."

McMurray made a few notes on his pad. "You said a brother by blood. You have other brothers?"

Suddenly, Sirius could see the sunshine outside again. He relaxed, surprised that his muscles had been so knotted. "Three, actually, but not by blood. I met them my first year of school, and we've been friends ever since. They're more than friends- _they_ are my family, in the truest meaning of the word."

"Tell me about them."

So Sirius told McMurray about them. He told him how they'd met, how they'd fought, how they'd forged bonds. He told them how they'd discovered Remus was sick with a disease that made him an outcast from society, and how they'd stayed friends with him anyway, because that's what friends did. He told him about how when he decided to run from home, he ran to James, because they were so close he already knew what the answer was, and that he was welcome as the morning sun at the Potters'. He told him how even now they were still like family, even though Remus was living with his folks and James was engaged and Peter had bought his own cottage and Sirius himself had a flat in London. His voice grew warmer and more enthusiastic as he talked, because _this_ was his family. This was love.

***

"So?" Gabriel asked him when they sat down for lunch the second day of the Selection Conference. "How do you think it's going?"

"Hard to tell, because I've never exactly done this before," Sirius said. "But I think it's going well. You?"

Gabriel shrugged. The gesture highlighted his thin shoulders, and Sirius found it rather fascinating for some reason. "I guess well enough. I know I shouldn't, but I worry about the whole money aspect." He gestured vaguely at his worn clothes.

"Gabe, they're priests. Vow of poverty. That's the last thing that will stand in your way."

"I know. It's just that it has so many times before." Gabriel stabbed his fork into a piece of meat, and then shook himself. "But you're right. What did your group do for discussion?"

"Paul's letters to the Ephesians. You?"

"Leviticus. Good old fire and brimstone."

Sirius laughed. Truth be told, the discussion group had been a bit unnerving, at first. There was a huge difference between going to Mass every Sunday and tormenting the priest afterwards with a multitude of questions and discussing faith and Biblical matters with strangers his own age. After all, James, Remus, and Peter thought that he was up in Scotland visiting a few other friends, not interviewing for seminary.

But he'd tell them once he got in. He would.

***

The interviews were fine, but _this_, waiting to hear the decision from his bishop, was nerve-wracking. Sirius sat in Bishop Goodwin's antechamber alone, fingers knitted together so tightly that the knuckles were white. He looked around like a tourist, despite the fact he'd been coming to this tiny Wizarding church since he was born. The small room was as cozy as ever, but he couldn't get comfortable.

Finally, Bishop Goodwin came out of his office. "Sirius?"

He jumped to his feet. "Yes?"

"Please come in."

There was something about Bishop Goodwin that reminded him of Dumbledore. Part of it was the white beard, but more of it was the twinkle in his eye. The twinkle was there as he looked at the young man he'd known since he'd christened him, eighteen years ago.

"Well, my boy, we have some good news."

"I'm in?" Sirius asked, his heart leaping.

Bishop Goodwin smiled gently. "It's not a simple yes or no, but the outcome is positive. The selectors and the Rector think that you are an excellent candidate." Sirius began to smile, but the bishop overrode him before he could say anything. "However, they do not think you are ready to enter the seminary at this time."

"What?" Sirius demanded. "You know I am! What's their objection?"

Bishop Goodwin sat back. "It has to do with your family. Not that they're who they are," he said, smiling and holding up a hand to forestall Sirius's objections. "If they only took people with perfect families, there would be no priests at all. What they are concerned about- and I agree with this assessment- is the anger you still hold towards them."

Sirius sat back, scowling.

"It's understandable that you are angry, Sirius. It's human. What your parents believe… well, the only reason I don't deny them access to the church is because you cannot show people to the light if you do not give them the opportunity to be led. I know why you left, and you had every right. But until your anger is tempered, you will not be able to attain the sort of relationship with God that a priest must have."

"So that's it then?"

"Hardly!" Bishop Goodwin pulled out a thick packet. "The selectors and the Rector recommend that you enter as an external student. You can begin some of the academic aspects of your training, but will still live on your own. It will give you time to work through these things and come to peace with leaving your family."

"I _am_ at peace with it," Sirius muttered.

The bishop's face was kind. "Sirius, it's been less than two years. You're not." He pushed the packet forward. "Will you consider taking the classes?"

Sirius shrugged. "There's nothing to consider. You know this is what I want. They may not have taken me this year, but next year, I'll be ready and they'll take me. You'll see."

***

"Well?"

Lily was waiting impatiently in the Leaky Cauldron when Sirius entered. She got to her feet immediately, hope for him written on her face. Sirius suddenly devoutly, intently hoped that James would manage to hang on to her, because in the past year Lily had become the sister he'd never had, and Sirius really didn't want to lose that.

"It's complicated," he said, tossing the packet down in front of her. "Somewhere between a yes and a no." He sat down and explained it to her.

"Are you going to tell James?" she asked when his ranting was through. "Because it's getting very hard to keep this a secret from him."

Sirius picked up a glass and looked at the liquid inside. "I know I should," he said slowly.

"It's going to get very awkward once you actually are a live-in student," Lily pushed. "Besides, this isn't something to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed," Sirius said. "I'm just… look, Lily. I can take McGonagall not believing it, or the entire faculty of Hogwarts laughing their arses off, which I'm positive they did. I can take weird looks and insults and rude comments and all the rest of it. But James, Remus, and Peter are _not_ religious. They aren't going to understand."

"You don't have to be religious to understand how someone could have faith in God," Lily said. "And you don't have to share that faith to believe that Sirius Black might actually want to spend his life doing some good for other people."

"As long as it's not Snivellus," he said automatically, and Lily kicked him under the table.

***

The summer passed in a blur, and with one thing and another, Sirius never told the others of his plans for the fall. But in the last days of August he made his way to St. John's to settle into class for the first time. To his delight, Gabriel was already seated.

"Congratulations," he said, extending his hand.

Gabriel grinned, but it was tinged with bitterness. "Not quite what it looks like, don't you know? They only took me on as an external student for now."

"Really?" That reassured Sirius greatly. "Me, too. Why with you?"

"I converted when I was fourteen," Gabriel admitted. "They want to give me a little extra time to be sure. I guess it's not so bad, because they're still considering me, but still."

"Well, glad I have some company."

"Why are you stuck in purgatory?" Gabriel asked.

Sirius studied him. "Long story," he said finally. "If you want, we could get a coffee after class, and I can give you the full version."

Gabriel smiled. It was a warm, open smile that would make anyone smile back. "I'd like that a lot," he said.

***

"Padfoot!" James sang out, whirling in the fireplace. "Are you home?"

"For crying out loud, you wanker! Can't you knock?" Sirius had just gotten out of the shower, and was grateful that years of habit had made him put a towel around his hips. "What's going on, Prongs?"

"Wormtail and Moony are on their way over, too. It's Friday night, and we working men need to relax with a few beers."

"And my flat has become a bar all of a sudden?"

"You object?"

"Not really." Sirius made for his bedroom. "Just let me get dressed."

When he emerged, Remus and Peter were there as well. "And so when I came out, she'd already stolen his hat and then went for his comb-over!" Peter was saying. James and Remus fell into bouts of laughter, and Peter glowed at the approval.

"There he is," James said as Sirius entered the room. "So, Sirius. How have you been spending your empty fall days?"

"You'd be surprised," Sirius said lightly. "It's hard work, not working."

"I see you still find plenty of time to read," James said, flopping down and picking up a spare book. Too late, Sirius realized it was one of his textbooks, with painstaking notes in the margins. James flipped it open and then froze, absorbing it.

"Sirius?"

"What is it, Prongs?" Peter asked, craning his neck over James's shoulder to get a better look. "Oh, good God!"

"Porn?" Remus asked, rather hopefully, and came around to look. His face went stony.

And then James began to laugh.

Sirius felt his ears flame, and he snatched the book out of James's hands. "Give me that! It's NOT funny. That's exactly why I didn't tell you wankers!"

"You're not… oh my God. You are not!" Peter was gaping at him. "My world is turning upside down."

Remus didn't say a word.

"Fuck this," Sirius growled.

"Do they approve of such language at priest school, Padfoot?" Peter said.

"It's called seminary," Sirius corrected haughtily. "And I don't care. Fuck this and fuck you."

"Padfoot. Wait." James was trying to recover. "Padfoot. Sirius!" He stood up and crossed the room, laying a hand on Sirius's arm. "I'm not laughing at you. Not like you think."

Sirius treated him to a level look of doom. "Sure looks that way."

"No. It's not that. It's… Sirius, becoming a priest. It's _good._ Not just good for you, but really, truly _good._ It's a commitment most people don't have the strength or the faith to make. It's going to take the best within you, and it's probably the most stable thing you've done the entire time I've known you. And this is what you've been hiding?" James shook his head. "I knew there was something, but I thought it was bad. I never dreamed it would be this."

"So you're not mad?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

"Why would I be mad?" James responded incredulously. "I'm in shock, but I'm not mad."

In his relief, Sirius barely noticed that Remus left the room.

***

It had been three weeks since Remus had talked to him. Sirius only noticed it after two, because he did see Remus at James's and at Peter's. But when the other two came over and Remus didn't appear, Sirius realized something was wrong. And when there was no forthcoming apology or explanation, it was time to sort things out.

He tried visiting the Lupins', but Remus's father told him that Remus had found a place of his own. That stung, because Remus should have at least told him he was looking. His father seemed equally surprised that Sirius didn't know, and gave him the address.

When he Apparated to the flat, Sirius admitted that maybe there was a reason Remus hadn't said anything. It was a poky little flat in a basement, with the paint peeling on the door and the stench of stale urine lingering in the alley. He tromped down the stairs and pounded on the door.

"Oi! Moony! Open up!"

He heard footsteps, and then Remus irritably snatched the door open. "How did you find me?"

"What the hell?" Sirius demanded, hitting the door with his shoulder before Remus could slam it in his face. "Since when do you make a big change like this and not tell me?"

"It just happened, Sirius. The flat came up and I had to move quickly, or someone else would have rented it."

Sirius looked around at the water stains on the walls, the frayed rug and curtains, the outdated fixtures, and the mold on the ceiling and snorted. However, there were a lot of unpacked boxes and trunks, so Remus must have been telling the truth about it being recent.

"Nice place," he said lamely.

"No, it's not," Remus snapped. He moved over and tossed a few robes off the seats of a broken down sofa. "But it will do for now, and I can afford the rent."

"Come on. You've got to be making a lot more than this at Gringotts."

"I was fired," Remus said shortly.

"What? Why? You were doing great there! They were lucky to have you… oh. _Oh._ Those rotten bastards! I'll go and sort them out, Moony. You'll see."

Remus waved his hand. "Don't worry about it," he said tiredly. "It's only going to happen again."

"But they can't-"

"They can. There are no laws protecting the employment of werewolves." Remus moved over to where the kitchen fixtures were, and pulled a teapot from the cabinet. "I only have the dried stuff," he said ungraciously.

"That's fine." Sirius was still reeling from Remus's revelation. "When did this happen?"

"About two weeks ago."

"Do James and Peter know?"

"Yes."

Sirius boggled. "Then _why_ didn't you tell me?"

Remus shrugged.

"Remus." Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him. Remus ignored it and continued fidgeting with the tea, even though a tap of his wand was all it would take to get the water sufficiently heated. "Remus. What is going on with us? You've been acting this way since…" he thought, and the realization dawned. "Since the night I told you guys I was taking classes at St. John's."

"It's nothing, Sirius." But obviously, it was.

"I'm not going to try to convert you, you know," Sirius said cautiously. "I never have."

"No. I know that." Remus picked up the pot and sloshed water into two cups, and thrust one at Sirius.

"I'm serious. Come on, Moony. You must know that. I've been Catholic the whole time you've known me- this is not a new thing. I know you and God don't get along-"

Remus snorted.

"-but give me the credit that I'm still the same person I've been."

Remus shook his head. "Before, you never talked about it."

Sirius felt his hackles rise. "Look. There's a huge difference between talking about faith and trying to get you to save your soul and all that. And I haven't exactly been talking about it now."

"No. But now that _James_ has given you his blessing, you will," Remus predicted.

"So what if I do? It's a part of my life, Remus. I'd think you could understand that."

"I did, when it was a part of your life. But now I'm trading in my best friend for a judgmental, sanctimonious bigot who thinks that all people must believe in his One True Way to be saved and go to Heaven, and God forbid anyone fall out of the perfectly defined norm!"

It took everything Sirius had not to storm out of the flat. But some voice of reason, some voice of conscience, _some voice_ was telling him that this was Remus's fear, not Remus's perception. He took a deep breath.

"Remus," he said. "I've grown up in the Wizarding world. I am a pureblood. My parents have done their best to indoctrinate me into their beliefs. And yet, when I found out you were a half-blood, I stayed friends with you. When I found out you're an atheist, I stayed friends with you. And when I found out you're a werewolf, which most of the rest of our world reviles, I still stayed friends with you. I am not going to judge you or leave you now just because I feel called to the priesthood." Remus was listening, Sirius could see it in the way his hands relaxed. "If you're not comfortable with this, that's fine. But talk to me. Don't shut me out."

Remus bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Padfoot. But I need some more time."

_Go. GO._ Sirius wanted to stay desperately, but he stood up anyway. "Well then. Floo me when you're ready to see each other again, yeah? But I'll be there on Friday."

Remus closed his eyes, the shadow of the full moon already etching his face. "Thank you," he whispered.

Sirius left.

***

"I don't understand it," he told James and Peter that night.

"Well, it is a shock," James admitted. "It's taken me a lot of getting used to myself. I just can't see you as one of those stuffy men preaching in front of the congregation and laying out the laws of morality."

"Are you going to get rid of your motorcycle?" Peter asked.

"What? No!" Sirius said. "Aside from the fact that priests are not just stuffy old men and all the other rubbish Prongs said, St. John's is in Muggle England. I need some sort of transportation to get to my classes."

"Speaking of that," James said. "I don't suppose they know you're a wizard."

"You suppose right." Sirius sat back and put his feet up on Peter's coffee table with a sigh. "The Ministry has a whole list of procedures for doing something like this. In this case, it's got to be done extremely carefully, because if they suspect-"

"They'll kill you?" Peter guessed.

James snorted. "Not this day and age, idiot. Although they used to. But Sirius could be… what's the word? Excommunicated?"

"Yeah. Plus, it's a huge mess all around. So, the less magic I can use anywhere near St. John's, the better. My motorbike is the best way to get there these days without arousing any suspicion."

"Because flying motorcycles are so common in the Muggle world."

"It does run on the ground, dingbat. But anyway, I still don't get why Remus is so upset."

"He's got a boyfriend," Peter said.

"WHAT?" James and Sirius both sat upright.

"It's nothing serious, from what I gather. I think they're just sleeping together." Peter pretended to examine his nails, but he glanced at Sirius and James from lowered eyes to gauge their reaction. "It's been going on for three weeks, as far as I know."

"Moony's _gay_?" James said, mouth gaping open.

"Technically bisexual, I think."

"Well." James managed to close his mouth. "Well. Well, there's your answer, Padfoot."

"Yeah," Sirius said, his mind frozen in shock. "I guess so."

***

Remus was _gay._

The thought made Sirius feel queer in the pit of his stomach. He tried to get comfortable in his bed, but every time he closed his eyes, the image of Remus and some anonymous man kept appearing in his head.

And okay, according to Peter, Remus was bisexual. But he was actually acting on homosexual impulses, so it was different. Really.

Sirius gave up on trying to sleep and flopped over onto his back, folding his hands beneath his head and staring up at the ceiling that he'd enchanted to look like the night sky.

For once in his life, Sirius didn't know what to make of any of this.

***

This time he had sent an owl before he came over, and this time, Remus was at least grudgingly polite. Not interested in small talk, Sirius dove right into the heart of the matter.

"Peter told us about your boyfriend."

Remus went very still. "How did Peter know?" he finally managed.

"Erm, I assumed that you had told him." Remus shook his head, and Sirius sighed. "Look, let's not worry about that right now. Is this why you're acting so defensive about me being a priest? Because you're afraid I'll judge you for being homosexual?"

"Bisexual," Remus insisted stubbornly, thrusting his chin out.

"Well?"

Remus shrugged and looked down at his shoes, which was a resounding yes. Sirius sighed.

"Moony, you should know me better than that."

Remus picked up a bottle, peeling the label and looking miserable. "I know."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Look. I know you've stuck by me before. But I've never done anything expressly condemned by your… your religion," he said, his face twisting into a grimace. "Even being a werewolf. I've never _killed_ anyone. But the Catholic views on homosexual relationships are pretty well-known."

"So are the Catholic views on premarital sex, and I'm still friends with James."

"But this is _different_," Remus protested. "James and Lily will eventually get married, we all know that. But me… it's not like that. And you can't tell me you approve."

Sirius opened his mouth to agree, and then closed it. "I don't know what I think of it," he said honestly.

"Well, it won't be that way for long. _They'll_ tell you what to think of it."

"Oh, come off it, Remus! If I was anyone else- anyone else in the world!- maybe you could get away with saying that. But I defied my family because I didn't think what they thought, and let myself get completely disowned for it! And I defy the entire Wizarding world and am friends with _you_, even though I know exactly what you are, and like you've said so many times, most of the world wouldn't touch you with a forty foot pole. And you're trying to tell me that just because I want to study to be a priest that _they're_ going to have a shot at brainwashing me into believing I should hate someone for something they can't control?"

Remus blinked. "So you believe it isn't a choice?"

"Hell, no! Why would anyone choose that sort of life? Why would anyone choose that sort of hate? Especially you, when everyone hates you already, and you thought you'd alienate your closest friends to the point where _you didn't fucking tell us?_"

Remus smiled grimly. "I can't believe you're going to use that mouth to preach about purity."

Sirius swatted him. "Fuck off." They both smiled, and then Sirius extended a hand. "So are we over this?"

Remus took it. "Yeah. We're over it."

***

"I have to confess," Gabriel said as they packed their stuff up, "I've never been able to make it through Numbers before this."

"I'm still not able to," Sirius groaned. "I haven't been this bored since I took History of Magic."

Gabriel paused. "History of Magic?"

Oops. Sirius thought quickly. "Class on the witch hunts and Inquisition and… stuff."

"Sounds interesting."

"_Not_ with Professor Binns." Sirius grinned, confidence restored. "Honestly? You know how you have professors that you could die a bloody death in their classroom and they wouldn't even notice, they'd just keep droning on? Well, Binns was worse. _He_ could die and he wouldn't notice- he'd just keep droning on." After all, that was pretty much what he'd done.

Gabriel shuddered. "Say no more. Hey, what are you up to tonight?"

"I have some friends coming over, but you'd be more than welcome to join us."

"The infamous Peter, Remus, and James?"

"The very ones. If you wanted, we could go now and get this assignment started, and then they'd be there in time for dinner."

"Yeah. That sounds good."

"All right. Give me just a moment, yeah?"

Sirius made his way to the men's room, but once he was safely inside a stall he pulled out his wand. The Patronus was easy to conjure. "Tell James a Muggle's coming tonight," he whispered to the silver dove (which made so much more sense these days). The dove soared out the window, and Sirius smiled.

"All right," he said when he returned. "Hope you don't mind motorbikes."

Gabriel's eyes lit up. "Not at all." They walked out to the bike, and Gabriel whistled through his teeth. "Nice bike. You are determined to challenge the stereotypes, aren't you?"

"Every bit of it. Come on. Let's go."

As they took off, Gabriel's arms wrapped securely around his waist, Sirius suddenly wished he could show him what this bike could really do. It was a strong, sudden temptation that he very nearly gave in to, especially as the crisp October air rushed by them, smelling strongly of leaves and fall.

"Did you just jump something?" Gabriel asked.

Sirius pretended not to hear, and reminded himself that Gabriel was a _Muggle_. Not even a Muggle-born, but a flat-out Muggle.

Fortunately, James was in charge of picking up take-out and Peter was getting the beer, so he didn't have to take Gabriel into his kitchen, which was full of evidence of magic. As long as everyone got the message, they could stay in the safe living room, where there wasn't anything to betray his real life. Sirius showed Gabriel into the flat, quickly stuffing his cloak under his leather jacket and kicking a robe under a chair.

"Wow. You write with quills?" Gabriel asked.

_Oops._ Sirius affected a nonchalant stance. "Yeah. They have a certain elegance, don't you think?"

"You ride a motorbike, and you write with quills."

Sirius shrugged. "Like you said, I like to defy stereotypes. So. Shall we get down to it?"

They sat down at the table and pulled out their textbooks, but after a few moments they began talking again. "Are you joining any of the societies?" Gabriel asked.

Sirius chewed on the quill. (Hey, if Gabriel had already noticed, there was no reason to use a pen.) "I don't know," he said slowly. The truth was he hadn't planned on it. He'd been carefully maintaining as much of a distance as he could from most of his fellow students, because if he wasn't careful, it was too easy to slip and say something about the magical world. "I've been talking to Reverend Corley about my pastoral placement, and I think that will eat up time. What about you?"

"I don't know. I was thinking about it. What are you doing for your placement?"

"Hospital work, for now." Fortunately, with the help of a few Charms, Sirius was able to convince Reverend Corley that St. Mungo's was a very reasonable place to work. It wasn't something he really liked doing, using magic on Muggles like that, but it was the exact procedure the Ministry had prescribed, so he couldn't find too many faults in it.

Gabriel was about to say something when a hard knock sounded at the door. "Oi! Padfoot! Open up!"

"Padfoot?"

Sirius rolled his eyes affectionately. "Don't even ask." He answered the door. "Hey, James. Come on in. Did you get the message to the others?"

"Of course," James said, affronted that Sirius would even ask. He shoved several white paper boxes into Sirius's hands as he juggled another paper sack. "Who's here?"

Sirius led him into the room, and Gabriel stood up. "Gabriel, James. James, Gabriel."

No other introduction was needed. James smiled widely and thunked the sack onto the table, just missing Sirius's homework and extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said politely, proving that James Potter could have a large amount of charm when he cared to make the effort. "We've heard a lot about you."

"Same here," Gabriel said. "Although Sirius has never told me, are you in Uni as well?"

Sirius and James exchanged glances. "Erm, no. I work," James said, choosing his words carefully. "I make sporting equipment."

"Really? What sport?"

Suddenly, Sirius realized this was going to be a very bad idea.

***


	2. Chapter 2

But keeping a Muggle from discovering the Wizarding world was the least of Sirius's worries.

"Well, what about dinosaurs?" Remus demanded. "Dinosaurs most certainly existed, unless you're going to claim that the bones are all put there by conspiracy theorists. But the Bible doesn't mention dinosaurs."

"Actually, it does," Gabriel pointed out.

"You're kidding." James popped open another two beers and handed one to Gabriel and took a long swallow from the other himself. "Where?"

"Well, Isaiah 27:1, for a start." Gabriel thumbed through the Bible he'd had to pick up over an hour ago, when Remus had begun his own version of the Wizarding Inquisition (with considerably less torture than the Spanish one). "_In that day the Lord with his sore and great and strong sword shall punish leviathan the piercing serpent, and even leviathan that crooked serpent; he shall slay the dragon that is in the sea._ That's pretty clearly referring to a kronosauras."

"Technically," Peter slurred, "the kronosaurus wasn't a dinosaur."

Remus high-fived him. Gabriel, however, lit up even more.

"A man after my own heart. You're right, of course, that most people erroneously consider the kronosaurus a dinosaur, but all dinosaurs were land dwellers. But it did exist at the same time. Regardless, that's only one reference to prehistoric critters in the Bible. There are others: Job mentions a behemoth, which fits the description of a brachiosaurus. Most people seem to think it refers to an elephant or a hippo, but a dinosaur makes sense as well, especially when you consider the phrase _first in the ways of God_. You could interpret that to mean this behemoth was among the first animals created."

"In a day?" Remus shot back.

"Who says God's days are twenty-four hours?" Sirius asked.

"Exactly!" Gabriel held up his hand, and Sirius slapped it.

Peter cleared his throat. "Okay. I think that's enough now. Can we be done with the religious talk?"

"Ask Remus," Gabriel said. "He started it. I would have been content to discuss Manchester United or West Ham."

"Huh?" Peter said.

"Football teams," Sirius hissed.

Fortunately, by that point enough beer had been drunk that Gabriel didn't really notice the exchange. Instead, he was watching Remus, who was subtly glaring back.

Eventually, Gabriel stood up. "It's late," he said. "And I need to be up early tomorrow. Thanks a lot, Sirius, and it was nice to meet you all."

"I'll walk you out," Sirius volunteered. He scooped up Gabriel's coat. "Do you need a ride home?" he asked, as they headed out of the room.

"Nah. I'll catch the tube."

Sirius glanced back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry about Remus and Peter," he said softly. "Remus is a pretty devout atheist and can get kind of defensive, but I didn't know he'd be like this. And Peter just tags along for the ride."

"It's all right." Gabriel looked back into the room. "He's sure got a vendetta against God, though."

Sirius thought of everything Remus's life should have been, and everything he was stuck with it being. "Yeah, but if anyone's got a reason it's him. Have a good night."

***

"What was Remus's problem?" James asked later that night, when it was just the two of them.

"More of the same, probably," Sirius said with a sigh. "I have a feeling it might be best not to mix the two of them too often."

"Yeah. I wonder though…."

Sirius turned and arched an eyebrow. "You wonder what?"

James thought about it, and took a long pull from his bottle. "Nah. Nothing."

***

"Merry Christmas!"

Sirius sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Merry Christmas, James," he yawned.

James bounced unceremoniously on the bed, bearing a plate of donuts. Sirius stretched. "You're up early," he observed.

"When could I ever sleep in on Christmas?" James asked. "I got the jelly ones just for you."

Sirius grinned. "You're the best. Are your parents up yet?"

James's face clouded over for a moment. "I don't think so. I heard Mum up last night after we got back from Midnight Mass."

"Thanks for coming with me, by the way," Sirius said. "So was she playing Father Christmas?"

"No, more like she was coughing up her innards," James said with a frown. Then he shook himself. "Probably just a cold."

"I'm sure." Sirius pushed the plate forward. "Come on. Let's get hyped up on sugar."

***

Christmas morning with the Potters was always perfect. Sirius adjusted his new leather jacket. Technically, he didn't need it as he was Flooing to St. Mungo's, but he couldn't take it off regardless.

"Thanks again," he told Mrs. Potter, brushing a non-existent speck of dust off the sleeve. "It's great."

"I'm glad you like it, dear." Mrs. Potter was sitting in her dressing gown, smiling at her second son. "Will you be back in time for Christmas dinner?"

"I should be." Sirius glanced at the clock. It was only two. "I'll let you know if I'll be late."

Mrs. Potter opened her mouth to say something, and then bent over, her body shaking with the coughing spasms. Sirius tried to support her by the elbow, but she waved him off.

"It's nothing," she said when she could speak again. "Just a cold."

"Do you want me to pick you up something while I'm at St. Mungo's?" Sirius asked. "I'm sure they have a Suppressant Solution or something."

Mrs. Potter smiled. "Thank you, Sirius. I would appreciate it."

Sirius smiled at her. "I'll have it in time for dinner. See you soon." He stepped into the fireplace and shouted "St. Mungo's!"

The lobby of St. Mungo's was decorated with fairy lights and holly, but the antiseptic smell still pervaded through the air. Sirius looked around and spotted Bishop Goodwin, dressed in cheery red robes. He waved.

"Merry Christmas, Sirius!"

"Merry Christmas, Bishop," Sirius said, smiling and straightening his jacket. Bishop Goodwin grimaced. "What?" Sirius demanded.

"It is a little more traditional to wear robes."

Sirius shrugged. "Why be traditional?"

"Because people derive comfort from what they know."

Sirius shrugged again. "Shall we go minister to the unfortunate?" He held up his Bible, and Bishop Goodwin sighed.

"You'll be the death of me," he predicted, but in good humor.

Sirius followed him to the lift and pushed the button. "Onward and upward."

The hospital on Christmas Day was depressing. Despite the staff's attempts at holiday cheer, no one wanted to be where they were today of all days. There was one possible exception; a young Irish witch and her husband were celebrating the birth of their daughter, which had taken place hours before. They were easy to visit, all good cheer and hope and laughter.

Fabian Prewett, on the other hand, wasn't so easy.

Oh, he had family visiting him. There was an older brother Gideon, who looked at Sirius and Bishop Goodwin over wire-rimmed spectacles. And a younger sister Molly, who had a wedding ring and a sleeping infant beside her. But the damage that had been done was hard to look at.

"It was followers of… of…" Gideon lowered his voice. "Of You-Know-Who."

"Will he live?" Sirius asked softly.

Gideon nodded. "The healers are very optimistic. He may have a limp and he'll almost certainly lose that eye, but compared to what could have happened, we'll take it."

Sirius opened his mouth to ask another question, but Bishop Goodwin caught his eye and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Sirius closed his mouth again.

Gideon ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Will you pray with us, Father?" he asked.

As Bishop Goodwin began the prayer, Sirius bowed his head. But he watched the Prewetts through lowered lashes. He saw the whiteness in Gideon's knuckles, and Fabian's hand fumble for his brother's. And he noticed that Molly only pretended to pray.

Interesting, that.

***

"I don't understand," Sirius said when they stepped out into the hall again. "The Prewetts are purebloods."

Bishop Goodwin sighed. "I assume you don't mean you don't understand why they're Catholic instead of Anglican."

"I don't understand why Voldemort-" Bishop Goodwin winced- "would attack them. They're exactly what he wants in his society."

"They resist," Bishop Goodwin said simply.

Sirius looked back at the closed door, his respect sharply increased. "Good for them."

***

"James," Sirius said late that night as they lay on their backs, staring up at the lights in the tree, "have you heard of this Order of the Phoenix?"

"Dumbledore's resistance group? Of course."

"Has he said anything to you? About joining it?" Sirius looked at him.

James flushed. "He actually came to talk to me about it last week," he said. "Both me and Lily. I was going to talk to you and Moony and Wormtail about it, but after Christmas." He sighed heavily. "It's not really seasonal talk."

"No."

From upstairs, they could hear Mrs. Potter's deep, heavy cough. "Out of curiosity," James said, "why do you ask today?"

"Something I saw at St. Mungo's today. The Prewetts. You know them?"

"Gideon, Fabian, and Molly, right? Molly married one of the Weasley brothers?"

"Yeah. That's them. Fabian was one of the people we visited today." Sirius tried not to recapture the picture in his head, but it came anyway. "It was… disturbing."

James propped himself on an elbow. "Do you ever think about that, in being a priest? That you're going to see lots of misery that you can't change, because it's beyond your power?"

Sirius tucked his hands back under his head. "Yeah," he said finally. "But this was different. You kind of hit on it. A lot of what I'll see- and what I see now- I can't help. No, I can't change it. I saw a woman today who was dying of some disease. I mean dying- there was nothing the healers could do to save her. And she was young, too. And I was… well, not okay with that, but I could accept it. I could believe that her death is a part of some plan of God's. But what Fabian is going through… that's not God. That's another human, hurting someone because they don't agree with them. Isn't it in our power to protect people?"

"So you're going to join the Order."

"Aren't you?"

James grinned. "You'd better believe it."

***

"Sirius! Sirius!"

The pounding on the door of his flat woke Sirius from a sound sleep. He groaned, turned over, and looked at his clock. Three thirteen in the morning.

This couldn't be good.

He stumbled out of bed, shivering in the cold air, and wondered why Dumbledore had sent a personal emissary and not a Patronus. Then he recognized the voice. Remus. He threw the door open.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Remus grabbed his wrist. "It's James," he said, dragging Sirius over to the fireplace and activating the Floo. "Come on." He pulled Sirius, who fell off-balance and against Remus. His robes were icy cold against his skin, but the body underneath was warm. They were spinning, and Sirius clutched at his friend for balance. Finally, they came out at the lobby of St. Mungo's.

A nurse looked at them and giggled, and Sirius looked down. He was naked. He looked at Remus with exasperation. "You could have let me grab a robe."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry." But Remus didn't smile. "Come on."

"What is it? It isn't…" Sirius swallowed hard as Remus pulled him towards the lift.

"It's-" Remus saw his face and softened. "Oh, Sirius. No. James is all right, the Death Eaters didn't get him. Or Lily. It's Mrs. Potter. Mr. Potter found her burning up with fever and vomiting blood. By the time they got her in, she was unconscious. They…" Remus swatted at his eyes with the back of his hand. "They don't think she's going to make it, Sirius. And I knew you'd want to be here to say goodbye."

Sirius squeezed Remus's hand in mute thanks.

The giggling nurse must have sent a message up to the floor, because when they stepped out of the lift, an orderly greeted Sirius with a worn healer's robe. He slipped it on gratefully, and then he and Remus were running down the hall.

Lily was pacing outside the room, her hands clasped behind her back and whispering under her breath. When she saw them, she lit up and ran to meet them.

"Oh, thank God! You found him!" She hugged Remus. "Sirius, you'd better get in there. Only one of us can go in, and well, you're closer to them than I am."

Remus nodded, and Sirius took a deep breath and walked in.

James looked up when he entered, but Mr. Potter was still bent over his wife's hand. James smiled gratefully, his face streaked with tears, and Sirius took his place beside him.

There was a lot he wanted to say, but the presence of James and Mr. Potter made him feel a little awkward, especially knowing Mrs. Potter couldn't hear him. But he could whisper, "Thank you," and touch her blanket gently.

She died very shortly after. Sirius knew it when Mr. Potter began to cry. As he stood next to James, feeling isolated and alone, he resolved that some day, when he was a priest, he'd know exactly what to say at a time like this.

***

"What now?" James asked the healer two hours later. "It seems strange to just pack up and go home."

The healer sighed heavily. "I'm afraid I can't let you go home, anyway. This disease is very highly contagious. I need to quarantine all members of the household."

Mr. Potter nodded, and James shivered. "What about Sirius and Lily?" he asked.

"Have they been in the house in the past forty eight hours for any amount of time?"

"Lily hasn't," James said. "But Sirius has."

"Well, then. I'll get the rooms ready."

***

Staying in the hospital with James was a little like being back at Hogwarts, at first. Not so much in the superficial ways, but just in having someone right there, close in proximity as in spirit. James was largely silent that night, and Sirius couldn't blame him.

Mr. Potter died two days later. That was bad enough. But what was worse was James lying in bed, hot with fever and vomiting blood. Sirius could bear losing the two who had been like parents to him; he could not even think about losing his brother.

Peter and Remus came to visit, from outside the room and a safe distance. They were there during an attack, and it left Peter white and shaking and Remus with closed eyes. Not that Sirius blamed either of them. He couldn't remember any time in his life when he'd been this scared.

He would say that Lily came, but the truth was Lily never left. She set up a small camp outside their door, only leaving her post when she absolutely had to. Sirius had always liked Lily, but when he saw her there on day five, with greasy hair, rumpled robes, and circles under her eyes as she looked in at James fitfully asleep in the hospital bed, he loved her deeply.

Of course he prayed. It was a constant litany in his head of _pleaseGodpleaseGodpleaseGoddon'tlethimdie!_. All the formal prayers he knew were forgotten, but the simple desperation was heartfelt.

And answered. Two weeks later, the five of them walked out of the hospital together. James was silent, pale, and too thin, but he was alive, and they were all grateful.

***

Sirius, who'd never contracted the disease, was able to return to St. John's the next day. His professors inquired kindly after his health and offered sympathy on the loss of his friends, and a little discreet Confunding made no one wonder why they hadn't visited a sick student.

"Sirius! You're back!" Gabriel was saving him a seat. It made Sirius smile, because he hadn't been able to contact Gabe to let him know he'd be here.

"Thanks," he said, slipping into the seat.

Gabriel handed him a sheaf of papers. "I copied my notes for you," he said. "Sounds like you really had something."

Sirius made a face. "Not me, so much. But James." Suddenly, he remembered that Gabriel had no idea of what had happened. "James's parents died."

Gabriel's mouth sagged open. "Both of them? What happened? Some sort of accident?"

"No." Sirius suddenly found he didn't want to talk about it. Mercifully, the professor walked in and class began.

***

"So, how are you?" Remus asked. He was lying on Sirius's couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket. It had been a rough full moon, even with Peter and Sirius there to help him keep his mind. Sirius noticed that there was a rather nasty cut on Remus's cheek that hadn't been fully healed yet.

"I'm fine, I guess." He thought about pretending otherwise, but he didn't want to with Remus. "I've been trying not to think about it."

"I know."

Sirius went to the bathroom and grabbed a potion. It gave him a minute to think. "It's not just that," he said slowly, pouring some of the potion onto a cloth. Remus closed his eyes as Sirius touched the cloth to his face. "It's… well, I feel guilty."

"Guilty?" Remus asked, his eyes flaring open. "What do you have to feel guilty for?"

"They aren't really my parents," Sirius said. The cut began to heal under his hand. "I feel guilty grieving them, instead of being there for James."

"You're doing both," Remus pointed out.

"I know." Sirius sighed and sat back on his heels. "But it still doesn't feel right."

Remus's eyes were sad. "Probably because it's not ever going to. Who can really be at peace with something like this?"

It was a good question. Sirius wondered if he'd ever know the answer.

***

"I am not looking forward to this final," Gabriel groaned, opening his notebook.

Sirius agreed. "Father Mallory is fond of the technicalities, isn't he? He's the sort of professor who would test you on the information in the footnotes, if the Bible actually had any." He put his feet up on the table in front of the couch and kicked off his shoes. "Two hours and then we'll order out?"

"Sounds good."

The work was tricky. The final was meant to focus heavily on the Books of the Minor Prophets, which Sirius always found tedious and forgettable. "I vastly prefer New Testament," Sirius grumbled. "Or Metaphysics. Or Church History. _Anything_ but the Minor Prophets."

"'I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content'," Gabriel quoted, and Sirius kicked his ankle.

Despite the subject matter, he was happy. The evening sunlight filtered in through the curtains, coloring the room with a golden tint. Sirius had opened the windows, and a breeze danced through his flat. The truth was, sitting here with a Muggle studying for a final he was going to take in the Muggle world, it was so easy to forget what was really happening.

Tonight, James, Lily, and Remus were helping to protect the Roslands, a family with a Muggle-born father. It was far from the first time Dumbledore had asked any of them to do something like this; in fact, the only reason Sirius wasn't there was because he'd been keeping guard last night with Peter, and he _had_ to study for this final. Not that he said that, of course, because school didn't really compare to the lives of a family. But still.

He looked at Gabriel. His profile was illuminated by the light as he studied his notes, and his hair fell down over his forehead. It wasn't until Gabriel looked at him and smiled that Sirius realized he'd been staring. He hastily returned his attention to his work.

***

"How do you get it so fast?" Gabriel asked when Sirius returned five minutes after he left with the take-away. "And how to you keep it so hot?"

"Appar…antly, there's a Chinese place right next door," Sirius finished lamely.

"Really? I've never noticed it." Gabriel was digging out chopsticks. He speared the dumplings and divided them onto the plates.

"So what are you doing for the holidays?" Sirius asked quickly, still a little shaken by his near-miss.

"Working in a café, actually," Gabriel said, making a face. "I'd rather do something a little more… meaningful, but I've worked there for years, and the tips are good." He sighed. "Taking a vow of poverty isn't going to be that much of a stretch."

Sirius looked down at his plate, feeling a bit guilty. For the first time, he wondered what he should do with the money his Uncle Alphard left him. "Yeah," he said. "I can see that."

Gabriel physically shrugged it off. "What about you? What are you going to do?"

"I sort of have a job, too."

"Oh? Doing what?" Gabriel settled on the couch next to Sirius, plate in one hand and beer in the other.

"It's… a sort of political thing," he said carefully. "James, Peter, and Remus are working there, too."

"Mmm."

Sirius cocked his head. "What?"

"Nothing." Gabriel poked his food.

"No, what is it? Come on."

"Your friend Remus doesn't much like me, does he?" Gabriel asked.

Relieved to be off the subject of the Order, Sirius shrugged. "Not really, but I wouldn't take it personally. He's an atheist, and he's terrified you're going to convert him or cast him into the depths of Hell or something."

"Oh." Gabriel considered that. "Can I ask why? Why he's atheist, I mean. Are his parents?"

"No, but I'm not sure how devout they are, to be honest." Sirius sighed. "He- and his family- they've really been through a lot. And none of it's fair."

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you exactly-" understatement of the year- "but I can give you something comparable. Say you knew this little kid, and the kid was molested pretty badly. And then the kid caught syphilis from it. But instead of being treatable, there was no cure. And worse, everyone knew about it, and treated the kid like it was his fault."

Gabe sat back heavily. "Is that what happened to Remus?"

"Not exactly like that, no. But that's pretty much the gist of it." He stirred his rice contemplatively. "I've known Remus since we started school together, when we were eleven. He never wanted us to find out about what was going on, but we did. I remember the night I _did_ figure everything out. I didn't cry, but I sure wanted to." Sirius sighed heavily. "But I can understand how it would be easier to not believe in God at all than to believe that He'd ever want that to happen. It's the most unfair thing I've ever heard of in my life."

"But James and Peter know what happened, too? And all three of you have been friends with him since?"

Sirius saw where he was going and chuckled. "Remus might be right," he said. "You _would_ try to convert him."

"We are rather meant to spread the Word," Gabriel admonished gently.

"But spreading it and pounding it into someone who will resist are two different things. I _know_ Remus, and trust me. Preaching at him isn't the right way to go about it."

Gabriel nodded. "You really are close, aren't you? You and Remus?"

"We're like brothers," Sirius said.

"Brothers?"

"Yeah."

"Well, good." And then Gabriel leaned over and kissed him.

Sirius's eyes flared open in shock, but just for a moment because Gabriel was a hell of a good kisser. Not that he had anything to compare to, but the kiss was gentle and firm and sure and _oh God_, so good. Gabriel pulled away and studied his face, and Sirius smiled. He cupped his hand around the back of Gabriel's head and pulled him back in for another kiss.

Their plates fell to the floor with a crash, and Gabriel laughed deep in his throat. He shifted his body so he was pushing Sirius back on the couch and then deepened the kiss.

Sirius had his eyes closed, floating although he was anchored to the couch. He reveled in it, and the feeling of Gabriel against him. A part of his brain was whispering all sorts of things about this not being right for so many reasons, but he informed it to shut up and enjoy.

It was remarkably easy to do.

When they finally broke apart, the world was spinning. They had done nothing more than kiss, but that was enough.

"This is big," Sirius whispered.

"Understatement," Gabriel laughed, but the expression didn't extend to his eyes.

Neither of them had really expected this; neither of them had allowed themselves to think of it. They sat beside each other in silence, and Gabriel fumbled for Sirius's hand. Sirius squeezed his fingers in mute solidarity.

***

"So, did he stay the night?" James asked.

"Of course not," Sirius scowled. He ran his hands through his already disheveled hair. "It never went any further than kissing. Believe me, that's far enough."

"Is it?" James asked.

Sirius turned and looked at him. James was remarkably calm, sitting at the table and drumming his fingers in a complex rhythm. "Well, yeah."

James rubbed his chin, and then ruffled his hair, a childish habit he was trying to break and failing to do so miserably. "Padfoot, did you really not know?"

"Not know what? That Gabriel was gay?"

"No. That you are."

That stopped Sirius short. "What the fuck? No! I didn't! Did _you?_"

James shrugged. "I thought it a couple times. But you never said anything, and then you decided to become a priest, so I figured it wasn't going to be that relevant anyway."

"It's VERY relevant. The Bible is pretty explicit about homosexuality."

"Since when have _you_ ever done what anyone told you?" James asked with a cocky grin.

Sirius grinned back, but it faded quickly. "It's still… it's still hard," he admitted. "I don't want this. You really knew?"

"It's what I thought you were hiding when you weren't telling any of us you'd run off to seminary." James shrugged. "I've already had my crisis about it."

"Great." Sirius put his feet up on James's table. "Hey. You said you figured it out. Do Peter and Remus…."

James shook his head vigorously. "No. I haven't even told Lily."

Sirius looked at him with complete and utter gratitude. "Thanks."

***

He passed the final, naturally, with the highest grade in the class. Sirius also received a letter from the Director of Studies, commending him on his achievements and asking to arrange a meeting to discuss Sirius joining the rectory. He sat staring at that letter for a long, long time.

Just a week ago, he would have been over the moon to see that offer. Even now, a part of him was thrilled. But how was he going to answer, when he knew he was something the Church despised? How could he be a priest when he would always have to keep a part of himself secret?

He stared at the letter and then angrily stuffed it back into the envelope. Fuck what anyone thought. He picked up a quill and scrawled a note to the Director that he'd be happy to meet with him on Friday morning.

He had just put it in the mail when the spectral silver dog appeared in front of him. "Sirius," Remus's voice said, "come quick. The Roslands' house was destroyed, and I think they're dead."

***

The house was in ruins. Sirius stood staring at it for a long time.

The walls were charred and crumbled. The corpses had been taken away, but he knew he'd remember that image of a skeletal hand clawing at a doorknob. Worse, he'd heard someone from the Auror office tell the ten year old girl who'd been sleeping at a friend's house that the rest of the Roslands were dead. Her mother, her father, her brothers… it was like something that belonged in a history book or as the backstory of a heroine for a bad romance novel.

"It's terrible, isn't it?"

Sirius jumped, and then turned in relief when he realized it was Remus behind him. "It is," he agreed. He wanted to say more, but there wasn't much to say.

Remus put a hand on his shoulder, and Sirius covered it with his own and bowed his head. They stood for a long moment, and then Remus said, "Dumbledore asked me to sift through to find any clues I could to determine the identity of the bastards who did this. You want to help?"

"You'd better believe it," Sirius growled.

It was grisly work, even with the aid of magic. But Sirius set his shoulders and his resolve and began.

"Sirius!" Remus shouted after an hour of searching. "I found something."

Sirius stumbled over the remains of the plumbing pipes. "What is it?"

Remus turned over a mirror. It was broken, but he'd managed to locate a large fragment. "This. It's not just a mirror."

"Foe-glass?" Sirius asked. "I didn't know they had one. And we were helping protect them."

"I guess you can't be too careful these days," Remus said sadly. But he picked up his wand anyway. "_Priori revelo._"

Sirius watched as the glass clouded and began showing its images. He'd seen Death Eaters before, but always from a distance. The anonymous masks chilled him, as did the cold certainty in the barely visible eyes.

Next to him, Remus shuddered.

"Do you see anything?" Sirius asked, searching the forms. "Anything that might give us even a hint as to who they are?"

"There," Remus said, waving his wand and freezing the image. "Right there." He pointed at a watch that peeked out from under a robe. "That's pretty garish." He pulled out a quill and a pad of paper. "Copy," he told the quill, and it began sketching the watch in the style of a courtroom artist. Sirius watched it with interest for a moment.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"Dumbledore," Remus said briefly. His brow furrowed as he studied the image once more.

"See anything else?" Sirius asked.

"No. Let's get this to Dumbledore," Remus said. "And let's hurry." He slipped the Foe Glass into his bag.

***

"It's all very well and good we have this image of a watch," Peter said. "But what are we supposed to do with it?"

"Find the wearer," James said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "That's what Dumbledore said."

"I still think they should be using Aurors for this," Peter grumbled.

"But we're only supposed to _find_ the wearer," James argued. "Not actually do anything about it. Not yet."

"Then what's the point?"

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Sirius couldn't fault Peter for being nervous- hell, he was too, and so was James- but he could fault him if he chickened out. He shook his head and looked over at the bartender, gesturing for another round of drinks.

The Leaky Cauldron wasn't deserted, but it felt like it. People huddled in groups, and they kept their voices down to murmurs. There was something secretive and furtive about people these days, as if they were afraid they'd be killed in a burst of green light on the spot.

Things hadn't gotten that bad _yet_, but Sirius was pretty sure they would soon.

The bell jangled, signaling another customer had come in. Sirius turned his head automatically and then froze.

It was Regulus. And he was wearing the watch.

Fuck. He really should have known.

***

_He wanted me to know. Dumbledore wanted me to know._ The thought was still running on a continuous loop in his head on Friday morning, when Sirius met with the Rector and the Director of St. John's. But he smiled and extended his hand, because although Regulus meant a lot, this opportunity meant even more.

"We've been very impressed with your work, Mr. Black," the Director said as they all settled down with cups of tea. "Very impressed."

"Thank you. But I remember it was never my academic achievements that you had doubts about." Sirius sipped his tea with a bit of a slurp. "I believe it was my family."

The Rector smiled gently. "Not exactly, but I think you know that, too." Sirius flushed, and the Rector picked up his own cup. "I understand the people you consider your adoptive parents passed on this year, while you were ill."

"Yes," Sirius said softly. The pain still hadn't healed. Both the Director and the Rector saw it and smiled sympathetically. "But I'm at peace with it," he added hastily.

The Director laughed. "Relax, Sirius. This isn't an exam, or a hoop to jump through."

"Then what is it? We're here to discuss if I can finally join the seminary, right?" Sirius's heel was tapping against the floor.

"Not so much. We're here to discuss if you want to still join the seminary." The Rector sat back, his eyes twinkling. "Over the past academic year we've gotten a chance to know you better, Sirius. And I'm pleased to be able to offer you admission to the seminary in the fall, if you are still interested."

Sirius grinned broadly. "Of course I am!"

The Rector extended his hand. "Well, then. Welcome aboard."

***

In the packet the Rector had given him there was a notice about a summer class being offered. It was a class specifically geared to students possibly interested in youth ministries. When Sirius read the title, he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

"Youth ministries?" Peter snorted. "You're pretty much a youth yourself. You're nineteen, Sirius."

"I'll be twenty soon enough. But more importantly, I'll be older than that when I've taken my vows." Sirius opened a beer and took a long pull. "What's the big deal?"

"I just can't see it," Peter said stubbornly. James smacked him upside the head.

"I can," Remus said softly. Sirius looked at him, and he could see the why of it written across Remus's face. He should have known Remus, of all people, would understand.

"So, what sort of class is it?" Peter asked.

"Dealing with issues of youth today. Drugs, sex, rock and roll."

"The same issues youth have always had," James laughed.

"You know you aren't going to be able to save him from the Death Eaters," Peter said. "Not like that."

James smacked Peter upside the head again, and Sirius glared at him. "I never even thought of that, idiot."

Really.

***

Sirius had thought about Gabriel, of course. Quite constantly. It was pretty hard not to, given the way he'd turned Sirius's perception of himself upside down. And he was glad to see Gabriel sitting in the summer class.

"I wanted to get in touch," Gabriel said as Sirius sat down beside him. "But I didn't have your phone number."

"I wanted to get in touch," Sirius answered, "but I don't have a phone."

Gabriel smiled. "So, what are you doing these days?"

"I'm starting the seminary properly in the fall," Sirius announced proudly. "You?"

"Eh. I-" Gabriel was cut off by the entrance of the professor; a young, clean-cut priest that Sirius hadn't seen before.

"Good morning, and welcome to Topics in Youth Ministries. I am Father O'Brien. I see some new faces, and I just want to say-"

He launched off into a discussion of course aims and the syllabus. Sirius was jotting down the course outline when the note appeared on his desk.

_Want to go to the cinema tonight?_

It was a bad idea, he knew that. And that was probably why he said yes anyway.

***

"So. You're into the seminary?" Gabriel asked as they stood in front of the theater.

"Yeah," Sirius was studying the movie names. "Listen, I don't know anything about any of these. You choose."

"All right." Gabriel stepped up to the window and bought two tickets to something called Life of Brian. "You do still have a sense of humor, right?" he asked Sirius as he returned.

Sirius didn't even dignify that with a response.

"So, are you starting as well?" Sirius asked when they were seated in the near-dark of the theater. He looked around with interest- he'd never had the chance to go to a film before, even though Lily had asked him once or twice. James said it was brilliant, and that Muggles came up with some pretty incredible things, but Sirius was still dubious. He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't hear Gabriel's response.

"No. They told me I could, but I decided not to."

Sirius pulled himself back to the present. "You're kidding. Is it because of…" he looked around furtively.

"No. It's my mum. She's sick."

"I'm sorry. Badly?"

""Not life-threatening, but she can't work for a while. I need to keep working at the restaurant to help her out- I can't be staying at the rectory and devoting everything I've got to what I want right now." He snorted. "It's funny. I always knew life as a priest would involve sacrifice, and I was okay with that. But now I'm being asked to sacrifice _that_. It just seems… ironic."

Sirius was saved from answering by the lights being extinguished and the swell of music. He'd never been to a movie before, but he had enough common sense and (ugh, he hated to admit this) breeding to know that talking during a movie was rude and deserved its own level in Hell.

But his vocal hilarity had to be forgiven. Gabriel was a sick, sick bastard for bringing Sirius to see this particular movie, and he loved it.

He also loved the way Gabriel's hand lay alongside his, their fingers just barely touching. Gabriel's pinky draped over his, and by the time Stan insisted he wanted to be a mother, their fingers were entwined. It was a heady experience, sitting in the dark holding hands, watching the magic that Muggles had developed unfolding before him.

"That was amazing," Sirius said as they left the theater.

"I'm glad you liked it." By silent mutual agreement, they dropped their hands. "Did you see Monty Python and the Holy Grail?"

"No. Same sort of thing?"

Gabriel looked at him oddly. "It's Monty Python."

"Oh. Right. Erm. Do you want to go for a drink?"

"I'd like to," Gabriel said, "but I should get home. I have to be up early tomorrow."

"Do you live nearby?" Sirius asked, and Gabriel nodded. "I'll walk you."

They walked slowly through the warm night. They could hear snippets of conversation, dogs barking, and every now and then a strain of music. As they slowed their steps, Sirius found himself wishing that the night could last forever. At the same time, he wanted the walk to be over, because he knew exactly how it was going to end.

He was not disappointed, and the kiss was every bit as good as the ones they'd shared in his flat. He pulled away and smiled impudently at Gabriel, who grinned back.

"See you Monday, yeah?" Sirius asked.

Gabriel grinned. "Yeah. Say, how are you getting home? You're not going to walk the whole way, are you?"

"No. I think I'll fly."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Corny. Good night, Sirius."

"Good night." Sirius waited until Gabriel had gone inside and then Apparated back to St. John's to pick up his motorbike.

He wasn't _that_ much of a ponce, for God's sake.

***

The evening shattered as soon as he got home. He'd just taken his jacket off when the elephant came barging through the walls. "Hurry, Sirius," Peter's voice said. "They're coming for James."

The motorbike wasn't quick enough. Sirius grabbed his wand and Apparated again.

***

He'd never forget that night, not if he lived to be two hundred. He'd never forget James, the blood streaking his face as he fought off a masked Death Eater. He'd never forget the appearance of Voldemort, white skin, snake-like nose, and fire-red eyes. He'd never forget Lily, half-undressed from an interrupted tryst and viscously cutting down a wizard twice her size. And he'd never forget the desperate flight to Hogwarts, the hot wind on their faces and the sounds of pursuit for half the journey.

Sirius was never clear on the details of how they escaped. All he knew for sure was that one of the pursuing Death Eaters wore a garish watch and cast a spell that misfired. Leave it to Regulus to fuck everything up.

"You are welcome to stay the night," Dumbledore told them all once they were at Hogwarts. "In fact, I would suggest it."

Remus made a face. "I don't understand," he said. "Why did they attack James? Why so brutally?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, but to all of their surprise it was Peter who quietly said, "Lily."

"Lily?" James demanded, wrapping his arm around her bare shoulder. (At the gesture, Sirius hastily Transfigured a gum wrapper into a shawl for her, which she took gratefully.) "Why Lily?"

"Keep the bloodlines pure," Peter said, his face twisting into an expression of scorn. "You're pure-blood, James. Lily is Muggleborn. Come on. This isn't N.E.W.T. level Arithmancy."

Sirius closed his eyes and sat down in a chair. He had the overwhelming feeling that the future was closing in on him.

***

"Look, the Bible contradicts itself on many things, that's true. But it is exceedingly clear about homosexuality!"

Andrew reminded Sirius of Snivellus. Not in appearance, but in the expression in his eyes. Shifty. God knows why someone thought he'd make a good priest, Sirius thought uncharitably. "The Bible is also clear on a lot of other things," he countered. "Slavery. Isolating women who have their periods. Eating shellfish. Do you keep kosher?"

"Don't be stupid. That's a Jewish tradition."

"Don't _you_ be stupid. We all know the first five books of the Bible make up the Torah. It's laid out in _both_ religions, but only the Jews follow it."

"If I might interject," Father O'Brien said mildly, "let's keep the discussion respectful, all right, gentlemen? Does anyone else have anything to add? Now's your chance to get a word in edgewise." The class laughed. "Mr. Graham, what is your opinion?"

Gabriel had been sitting completely still, hands folded tightly under his desk. He jerked when Father O'Brien called on him. "I… I'm not sure," he admitted. "I understand both points. But if a student came to me confiding he was homosexual, I don't think I could condemn him just for that."

"An excellent point," Father O'Brien said, "about compassion."

"But it's a sin!" Andrew insisted.

"You make it sound like it's a choice!" The words ripped out of Sirius, and he jumped to his feet. "It's not a choice!" The whole class looked at him. Sirius sat back down with as much dignity as he could muster. "Well, think about it," he said, his voice shaking. "We're supposed to be forgiving, compassionate, and understanding, and _we're_ condemning it. The rest of the world must be worse. Who would choose that? Really?"

"It's not that black and white!" Andrew would not back down.

"It should be!" Sirius shouted.

"Well, then, why don't you go nail your ninety-five theses to the door?"

"All right, that's enough," Father O'Brien said sternly, jumping in. "And we're running out of time. But before you go, I would like you all to think about one particular fact. The Bible does explicitly state that homosexual sex is a sin, yes. However, at no point does it ever declare that a man _loving_ another man or a woman _loving_ another woman is sinful. Only the concept of sex." The statement brought a burst of conversation, but Father O'Brien merely smiled. "We'll discuss that one tomorrow. Class dismissed."

Sirius sat for a long moment, staring at the desk in front of him. And he was not at all surprised when Father O'Brien said, "Mr. Black. May I speak to you privately, please?"

Sirius looked up and noticed that everyone else was gone. He nodded, and Father O'Brien approached, turning a chair around and straddling it. "Long day, I suspect?"

Sirius nodded.

"I'll cut right to the point. Is it safe to assume from your very passionate statements that you are homosexual?"

The question was worded very formally, but it was asked with a great deal of kindness. Father O'Brien's face was sympathetic, not judgmental. "I think so," Sirius finally said. His voice sounded tremulous and whiny- something he hated. He shook himself, sat back and looked Father O'Brien in the eye. "Yes. It was rather obvious, wasn't it?"

"You're not very subtle, no." Father O'Brien laughed. "But seriously, Sirius- wow, that's hard to say- this is something you need to discuss with the Rector if you intend to continue into seminary."

"Why?" Sirius demanded. "I'll be taking a vow of chastity. What does it matter if I find men more attractive than women-" God, that was hard to say out loud- "if I'm just going to be shutting off any sexual impulses at all?"

Father O'Brien looked concerned. "Sirius, celibacy isn't that simple. It's not a matter of just 'shutting off'. It's a sacrifice, and one that must be made in full understanding. Next year you'll begin your human formation courses, and it we'll be covering it. Well, we'll begin covering sex. Celibacy is really covered in your second year."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "My second year? You're not kicking me out?"

"Heavens, no!" Sirius began to smile until Father O'Brien said, "Not at this point, at any rate. Other priests have struggled with this, and they've overcome it. There is a difference between deep-seated homosexual tendencies and exploratory, transitory ones, and you're too young to know which category you fall into. It must be addressed, but as I said, it can be overcome. It might take you a bit longer to be ordained, but then, it might not, given that you're only at the beginning of your training." Sirius sighed heavily, and Father O'Brien reached out and clasped his shoulder. "You don't have to decide a thing this minute, Sirius. But if you need guidance and counseling, I wanted you to know I'd be more than willing to help you."

"Did you have to go through this yourself?"

"No, but my best friend did. He took his vows two years ago." Sirius nodded, but said nothing. Father O'Brien didn't push him. "Shall we pray together before you go?" he asked.

Sirius nodded and bowed his head. Right now, it was the only thing he could do.

***

When he left the classroom, Gabriel was waiting for him like always. He had a smile on his face, but it didn't extend to his eyes.

"Hey. I wanted to let you know that I can't make it out tonight," he said. "When I got back from work last night, my mum was really sick. We had to take her to the hospital."

Sirius closed his eyes, hearing the message loud and clear. But when he opened them, Gabriel was watching him anxiously. "How's she doing?" he asked lamely.

Gabriel shook his head. "I really don't know."

The words spurred out of him. "Would you like me to come with you to visit her?"

This time, the smile spread over Gabe's entire face. "Yeah. That would be good."

***


	3. Chapter 3

Sirius had never been in a Muggle hospital before, but the first thing he noticed was that the scent was the same as St. Mungo's. As he walked through the door he felt oddly comforted that Gabriel wasn't just feeding him a line. However, he could _feel_ the distance between them, the awkwardness. But he tried to put it out of his mind. After all, they'd always known that what was going on between them could never be allowed to come to fruition, and it was better nipped now anyway.

Sirius had never met Gabriel's mother before, and she reminded him very strongly of Mrs. Pettigrew. She had some tube hooked to her arm dripping clear liquid into her, and a lot of machines that Sirius itched to examine more closely. She had a great smile and a great laugh, despite her wan face and nervous hands that betrayed just how much she had to fear.

They were telling her about the night they got drunk and went around blessing random passerbys on the pavements with holy water in squirt guns when the Patronus appeared. It was a phoenix, and Dumbledore's voice said, "Sirius, I need to see you immediately. Come to my office."

There was a long silence.

"Was that an angel?" Mrs. Graham said, her voice a soft whisper. "It must have been. An angel…"

Gabriel was staring at the place where the Patronus had been, his mouth hanging open. Sirius sighed and pulled out his wand. "I'm afraid I have to go. But if you'd both look at me… _Obliviate._" He did it carefully, gently. And then he Apparated away to find a Floo.

Dumbledore was waiting when Sirius arrived, dizzy and irritated. "You know," Sirius snapped, "it might be worth checking to find out if someone is dealing with Muggles before contacting them with a Patronus. If I hadn't had my wand with me, there would be two Muggles very convinced that God Himself just spoke to me and proclaiming a miracle in a hospital ward."

"But you wouldn't be out without your wand," Dumbledore said mildly. "Not after what happened to James."

"Look, just because you're right…" Sirius mumbled. He sat down. "What's happening?"

Dumbledore pulled out a scroll. "We've intercepted this from Death Eaters," he said. "I have reason to believe that it contains very crucial information about Voldemort's plans. However, the person who intercepted it for me can not break the spells that the sender put on it."

Sirius took the letter. "So, any particular reason you're asking me?"

Dumbledore twinkled at him. "If I recall, Mr. Black, you always were quite good at reading things that weren't meant to be read. According to Madame Pince, you managed to read most of the Restricted Section without her permission." Sirius inclined his head proudly, and Dumbledore sighed. "But beyond that, as you might guess, the sender was Regulus."

Sirius made a face. "You do know we haven't spoken since I ran away from them, right? That it's been years, and I don't have any special insight to my brother's mind? If I did, I'd understand what the hell he was doing in the Death Eaters."

"I realize that, but even that gap is better than anyone else can do."

"All right." Sirius cocked his head to the side and studied Dumbledore, who was playing with something that looked suspiciously like a cigarette lighter. "There's something else, isn't there?"

"Yes. That night James and Lily were attacked, you were out, am I right?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore clicked the lighter-device open and closed. "I would never presume to tell you whom you may and may not see, Sirius. It is neither my business nor my place, and I am certainly not one to advise in romantic liaisons, if that is indeed what it was." Sirius opened his mouth to angrily retort, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "However, I must caution you that your companion is a Muggle. You are a pure-blood wizard. I would just like to point out the danger that your friend may be in if you continue to be seen in public together."

"So you're saying-"

"I am not in any way saying to end the friendship, Sirius. I am merely suggesting it would be wise to limit your friend's exposure to the eyes of the wizarding world."

Sirius couldn't find anything to argue about that, and the thought of what the Death Eaters could do to Gabriel made his blood run cold. But then an even worse thought occurred to him. "Professor Dumbledore," he said slowly. "I've been offered a place in the seminary in September. It would mean living in the Muggle world, with them, in the same dorm. Does that mean…."

"You must do what you think is right, Sirius," Dumbledore said, which clearly meant _I know what is right but you need to figure it out yourself._

Sirius sighed. For the first time, he began to wonder if God was giving him a loud and clear NO.

***

He was able to decipher the letter. It contained nothing of what he was looking for- no regret, no fear, unless that was carefully coded as well. Sirius had long fell out of understanding Regulus's secret language.

But it was only the beginning.

"Sirius, we need you here tonight."

"Sirius, we have word that the Death Eaters are going to attack the McKinnons."

"Sirius, we need your help to protect the Bones family."

"Sirius, there's another letter that needs to be worked out."

"Sirius, we need you today."

"Sirius, we need you."

He did everything Dumbledore asked of him, and he did it willingly. The threat Voldemort possessed to this world- what he could do if he ever was allowed to gain power- dictated that he could do nothing else. He _had_ to do what was right: his whole soul demanded it, and he wouldn't change it even if he could.

But at the same time, he found himself lying.

"I'm sorry I missed class Father, but I was ill."

"I'm sorry this essay was late, but my friend was in terrible trouble and needed help."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make the study session, but my aunt died."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but… oh, hell. _Confundus._"

It was a balancing act that couldn't last.

Dumbledore took him aside from an Order meeting two nights before he was to begin seminary. "Sirius, I understand that your commitment to the seminary is a deep one. But I need to know if I can rely on you, whenever I need you. Voldemort does not plan his attacks around your class schedule."

He'd known this was coming, but it still hit. Sirius stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away. "I know."

"If you refuse, I understand."

Sirius shook his head. "It's just… well, it's not fair." He chuckled bitterly. "I'm sorry. I know that. But the priesthood isn't just something I wanted. It's something I honestly think God wants me to do."

"Yours is not the only life that will be put on hold, Sirius," Dumbledore said softly.

"I know," Sirius muttered. "Can I have a night to think about it?"

"Of course."

***

He rode through the night sky, because only up here could he find anything resembling peace.

It wasn't that he didn't know the answer. There was only one answer to give. It was just that he didn't know how to say it.

***

The Rector nodded. "I'm very sorry you won't be joining us this year, Sirius. I wish you the best, and we will pray for you." He extended his hand.

"Thank you, sir," Sirius said. "I hope… I hope that maybe, once this is all resolved, I can come back."

The Rector smiled. "I hope so, too. Will you be seeing Bishop Goodwin at all?"

"I believe so." To be honest, Sirius suspected Dumbledore wasn't giving him mornings off for Mass, but he'd make sure he found time. "He'll keep you updated."

"I'm glad. Go in peace, my child, and may God's blessing be on you."

It was hard to leave the classroom, to leave St. John's. It wasn't the place he'd been the happiest- nothing could compare to Hogwarts- but it was the place he'd felt the most at peace. He stared at it, refusing to admit that the image was blurry with tears.

"Sirius."

He turned to see Gabriel, and smiled, closing his eyes. "Hey, Gabe."

"I hear you're leaving."

"Word travels fast."

"Is it… is it because of…" Gabriel gestured futilely. "Because of _us_?"

Sirius shook his head. "No."

"Oh. I'm glad," Gabriel said, but Sirius thought he might have been lying.

"Just out of curiosity, what would you have done if I'd said yes?"

Gabriel whistled between his teeth. "I don't know," he admitted. "I really don't."

"Yeah. Me either. Guess that's why it's not us." Sirius grinned and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Listen, I can't explain why I'm leaving, so let's not draw this out. Just… send me a letter when you're ordained, yeah? I want to take Communion from you."

Gabriel smiled. "I'll do that."

He extended his hand and Sirius took it, and then they both pulled each other close into a one-armed hug. "Take care," Gabriel whispered. "And whatever it is you're doing, somehow I know that the right thing to say is _be safe._"

There was no such thing, but he didn't need to say that. Sirius just grinned. "I will be."

***

"So," Sirius said bitterly, "are you happy?"

Remus looked up, surprised. They were sitting by a lake, pushing a paper boat back and forth to each other. "Happy? About you leaving seminary? No."

"I thought you would be."

"I told you I'd get over that. I am over that." Remus sighed.

"You said that, but you never liked Gabe."

Remus just shrugged. "That's different. Look, Sirius, you and I will never see eye to eye on God. I don't _want_ to see eye to eye on God with you, because if I do, well then, I just don't understand anything. But you are… you're one of my best friends. I want you happy. I want the best for you. And this past year, you have been happy. Really, truly happy. How could I not want this for you?"

Sirius closed his eyes. The sunlight warmed the back of his neck, and even with his eyes closed, it burst in on his consciousness. "Thank you."

When he opened his eyes, Remus was smiling at him with amusement and something else. "You're welcome."

***

"Here, Sirius." James dropped a packet in front of him, as well as a cup of hot chocolate to fight the chill in the air. "More letters from Dumbledore. Three this time."

"Oh, goodie." Sirius groaned. "He does enjoy tormenting me, doesn't he? Where's Lily? Tell her I'll address all her invitations AND listen to her talk about bridesmaids' robes for a full half-hour if she'll do this."

James chuckled. "Not on your life, buddy. This is your work, she's got her own."

"You must be desperate if you're willing to look at bridesmaids' robes," Remus observed.

"Talk about, not look at," Sirius clarified. "And yeah. One of them is from Regulus again."

"You know," James said, in his deliberate I'm-changing-the-subject voice, "speaking of the wedding-"

"We weren't," Peter pointed out helpfully.

"It's too bad you can't marry us, Sirius."

"James, are you asking me to engage in a threesome with you and your wife?"

Remus snickered and Peter burst out laughing. James flushed red. "That's _not_ what I meant. I meant you leaving seminary."

The words were like poking at a half-healed wound, but Sirius ruthlessly pushed the pain aside. "First of all, I wouldn't have been able to even if I still was in seminary. Not being ordained, I can't perform any of the sacraments. Secondly, Lily never would have let me."

"Lily loves you!" James declared.

Sirius blinked a few times. "Prongs, you are aware that your bride to be is Anglican, and I am Catholic?"

"Anglican is like Catholic, right?"

"Oh, Merlin," Remus groaned, and dropped his head onto the table. "Even the atheist knows this one's going end badly," he said, his voice muffled by the wood.

"You know, though," Peter said thoughtfully, "that's a good question. Most of the English pure-blood families are Anglican. Why isn't yours, Sirius?"

"Funny, that. From what I can tell, centuries back one of the Siriuses married a Catholic girl. She had him by the short hairs, from what the portraits say, and got him to convert. And since part of the Catholic wedding ceremony involves promising to raise your children Catholic," Sirius continued, with a meaningful glance at James, "he did. Anyway, the Blacks eventually convinced themselves that Catholics were right to the exclusion of anyone else-"

"Something Catholics are very good at doing," Remus muttered.

"-And they basically acted like they were in this exclusive little club. They see themselves as being more enlightened than the masses of common Wizards who dare go to the Anglican Church. Besides, the Church's formation was partly steered by Muggle politics, and the Blacks would rather die than have anything to do with Muggle politics. At least, that's what I've been able to piece together. But that wasn't the point. They aren't the same thing, and Lily wouldn't want a Catholic wedding. Trust me."

James considered that. "You can still be best man though, right?"

"If you ever get off your arse and ask me to, yes."

"I didn't ask?" James blinked and then shrugged. "Oh. Padfoot, will you be the best man?"

"Of course."

"I did ask you guys to be groomsmen, right?" he asked Remus and Peter. They both nodded, smirking. But James was serious.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I really thought I'd asked you."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I think it's kind of funny."

"I would, but…" James just shook his head. "A lot more on my mind than I'd like." He chewed on a quill. "I never thought I'd be planning security measures for my wedding." He chuckled. "Of course, I never thought I'd be planning a wedding anyway."

The conversation lightened from there, and for a little while it almost felt like they were back in Hogwarts working on their homework. But Sirius kept fingering the letter from Regulus. He didn't want to think about it, but it was impossible not to.

"I don't know why I get so worked up," he confided later to Remus. James had left to meet up with Lily, and Peter had gone home to squeeze in a couple hours of sleep before he met with the Prewett brothers to discuss some plans. "There's never anything in them that's worth getting worked up about."

"Hope?" asked Remus.

"I guess. But it's not like he knows we're getting any of these. There isn't going to be any secret coded message meant for me."

"I didn't know you wanted one," Remus said softly.

Sirius thought about that. His hatred of his family had been so vocal and so all-consuming, it surprised him too, now that he let himself think about it. "I didn't either," he admitted. "I don't know why I do. You and James and Peter are my brothers. But it's still…" he broke off, unable to continue because he couldn't find the words to explain what it all meant to him.

"He's still your brother," Remus said. "We are too, but we can't replace that, no matter how much you wish we could."

Sirius summoned a smile. "Are you sure you didn't take Divination, Moony?"

Remus returned the smile. "Load of rubbish," he said. "Listen, do you want me to stay while you do Regulus's letter?"

Sirius smiled gratefully. "Yeah. That would be good. Thanks."

***

Sirius didn't think about St. John's all the time. It wasn't that it was too painful, but that he was too focused on the task at hand. But at odd times, the memories came back to him.

James' and Lily's wedding was one of those times. He'd been running around all morning helping James, but found a moment to slip into Lily's dressing room.

"You look beautiful," he told her.

Lily turned around, her ivory dress robes fluttering. Her hair was captured up in some sleek, elegant style with little sparkly things decorating it, but the jewels were no match for her eyes. "Thank you, Sirius," she said. "You do, too."

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Almost. Have you seen my sister? She's supposed to be helping me."

Sirius made a face. "What do you need?"

Lily turned around. "The sash needs tied. Would you…?"

"Of course." He carefully tied the length of fabric into the best bow he could manage, and then gave it a little help from his wand. "There." He put a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her around, and then kissed her forehead. "I'm glad you'll be my sister," he whispered.

"Me, too. Sirius, this might sound odd, but would you mind…?"

She didn't have to finish. He took his hands in hers and they both bowed their heads and closed their eyes. "Dear Lord," Sirius began, meaning to use a prayer he'd learned at weddings from his childhood. But the words felt too remote, too cold, and not… not enough. He tightened his grip on Lily's hands.

"Dear Lord," he whispered, "we ask you for your blessing on James and Lily, and on the life they are about to form together. Help them to love, to honor, and to respect each other, and to support each other in good times and bad. May their lives together be blessed and happy, and may you keep them safe in…" his voice faltered, and Lily squeezed his hands. "keep them safe in these dangerous times.

"God, there should be poetry and music and words to ask you all that I want to ask, to tell you how much this couple means to me. But there isn't. I can only hope you hear the prayers in my heart and bless them, because when you love two people like this, you can't bear to think of anything but the best for them. Amen."

He kissed her forehead, and Lily wiped delicately at her eyes. "Somehow, I don't think that's in the Catholic prayer book."

"Not in so many words," Sirius agreed. "But I meant every one."

***

It was raining out- a steady, cold autumn late winter rain that would turn the remaining snow to slush. Sirius spooned out the stew into two bowls, looking at it warily.

"It should taste all right," he told Remus, setting one bowl in front of him. "I mean, I've never made it before, but I can follow a Potions instruction set just fine. It's not that different."

"Quite a ringing endorsement," Remus laughed. He tore off a piece of bread and buttered it. "Where are James and Peter?"

"James is practicing his family man act, I believe. Something about painting the nursery. And Peter was meeting some guys from work for a drink. It's just you and me tonight."

"I'm glad," Remus said.

"Me, too." And he was. When they were in school, they'd had more time to spend together. But these days, with Remus looking for work and with constant demands on their time from the Order, their time together was rushed and harried. "What have you been up to these days?"

Remus brightened. "I have a new job," he said.

"Really? Where?"

"Marlene McKinnon offered me one, actually. She's got an eight year old daughter who was in Muggle primary school, but she wanted to pull her out because of Voldemort. But she can't get off her job at the Ministry- it's too important right now and anyway, she needs the money. So I'm tutoring."

Sirius grinned broadly. Remus looked happy and relaxed and hopeful. "That's fantastic," he said, and then thought about it a little more. "You know, you'd actually make a really good teacher."

Remus shrugged. "Too… I don't know. Sedate. I'd rather travel more."

That took Sirius by surprise, even though it shouldn't have, not after Remus's short-lived stint at Gringotts. He studied Remus carefully, wondering what else he wasn't seeing.

There was gray in Remus's hair. Just a strand here or there, but it was there. Gray in his hair and the tiniest etching of lines by his eyes. "You're going gray already," Sirius said bluntly.

Remus flushed. "I know," he said, running his fingers through his hair self-consciously. "It's a side effect of being a werewolf, or so I keep telling myself."

"Are you going to color it?" Sirius asked.

"Why bother?" Remus shrugged. "I don't really care, and it's not like I'm on the prowl, looking for romantic prospects."

With a start, Sirius realized he knew absolutely nothing about that side of Remus. "What ever did happen to your boyfriend, anyway?"

"Oh, that?" Remus laughed. "Sirius, that ended ages ago. About two weeks after you visited my flat. It was never anything serious, and I didn't want him figuring things out, anyway."

"Have you had any other boyfriends since? Or girlfriends?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'd rather not answer." Remus looked very uncomfortable.

"I won't judge you," Sirius promised.

"No. That's not what I'm worried about. Padfoot, can we just leave it? Please? It's the sort of thing that will bring up more problems than it's worth."

"All right."

"What about you, Sirius?" Remus asked. "Have you been seeing anyone?"

Sirius shook his head. "No."

"Have you ever been seeing anyone?" Remus asked, picking up his spoon. "Hey, this stew isn't bad. I'm impressed."

"Thanks. What do you mean, heave I ever been seeing anyone?"

"Have you ever actually had a relationship?"

Sirius shook his head. "There was almost something, but… I don't know. It just seems like asking for trouble."

"You're not in seminary anymore," Remus pointed out.

"But I want to go back when all this is over."

Remus chewed a bite thoughtfully. "Have you ever thought what would happen if the right person came along? If you did fall in love?"

Sirius thought about Gabriel, conjuring up his smile and the feeling of kissing him. For all that he'd been interested, when it came down to it, the choice had been simple. Not necessarily easy, but simple. "I can't. It's not just that it would make it so much harder to go back, but…" he picked up a napkin and scrunched it in his hand.

"But?" Remus asked, leaning in.

Sirius tried to say he was gay, but the words just wouldn't come. Remus raised his eyebrows and reached out and touched Sirius's hand with tentative fingers. "It's okay," he whispered. "You don't have to say it."

Sirius dropped his head into his hand. "Why can't I say it to you?" he asked. "I said it to James. I said it to Father O'Brien."

"Because you're made of defiance," Remus said with a sad smile. "You can take on the world. You revel in it. Actually having someone accept you… that's not easy, is it?"

"When did you become a psychologist?" Sirius said with bitter amusement.

"I didn't. I just know you."

Sirius left it. "Anyway. It's still a sin, and even if I never went back to the priesthood, I'd have to believe that."

Remus eyed him. "You'd _have_ to believe that?"

"Okay. If I wasn't going back, I'd say fuck it and go ahead and do it anyway. But I am. And that's one thing I'm pretty sure the Catholic Church won't forgive. I may not agree with it, but if I'm going to be celibate anyway, I can deal with it. And then, once I'm in, I can start campaigning for change."

"Bring the Catholic Church down from the inside?

"To its knees."

"Well, that would make blow jobs easier."

It was a stupid joke, but they both cracked up anyway.

***

"What is it like?"

Remus looked up from the parchment he was reading. "Huh?"

"Sex," Sirius asked baldly. "What's it like?"

They were sitting in Remus's tiny flat, because Sirius didn't want to act as if his own was so much better, even though it was. The summer heat was nearly stifling, heavy and humid. Even the cooling charms they'd put on the place didn't help.

Remus sat back and chewed on his quill. "Well, you've had an orgasm before, right?"

"Yeah. Just never in company." Sirius considered that. "Unless you count you guys being in the room back at Hogwarts. But I'm pretty sure you were all asleep."

"Well, that's a part of it physically, I guess. But there's more to it. It's hard to explain. And then there's just the feeling of being that close and that intimate with someone else…." He shook his head. "I really can't explain it."

Sirius looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes. "This is going to be a stupid question, but how? I mean, I know the basics, I guess. But what's normal? What do people actually do, and what's just a wank magazine exaggeration?"

Remus looked nonplussed. "I haven't been with that many people that I could tell you what's _normal_," he admitted. "The best I can do is tell you what I've done and what I like."

"Well?"

Remus looked away and ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Well, there's always mutual masturbation," he said, his voice moving from trembling to clinical. "That's very non-threatening, and fairly direct. Oral sex. Oral sex is… powerful. I didn't think it would be, but it truly is, particularly when the partners give it simultaneously. And anal sex. That's… well, it depends if you are penetrating or receiving."

"Have you…?" Sirius asked, with a strange sort of fascination.

Remus shrugged one shoulder. "Received. Three times. The first time was, well, I won't lie. It hurt. But in an odd sort of way. It was incredibly intense, and once everything got going… Merlin. It was like nothing I've ever felt before." He turned his head so he was looking forward, but steadfastly avoided Sirius's gaze. "And I've only ever had one girlfriend, and it never got that far. All we ever did was kiss."

"Yeah," Sirius said. "That's all I've ever done, too."

Remus swung his head back sharply. "Gabriel?"

"Yeah."

"I knew it." Remus chewed his lip. "Have you seen him since you left seminary?"

"What?" Sirius's brow furrowed. "You know I haven't."

"Yeah. I know that. I-"

Before Remus could finish, a silver duck soared in the window. "Moony! Padfoot!" James's voice said. "Come quick! I'm a father! Hurry up, you've got to see him right away. I'm a FATHER!"

***

Babies were miracles. Sirius had always heard that and vaguely believed it, but he didn't understand it until he held James and Lily's newborn son in his arms.

"He's so tiny," he whispered, and he also understood why people said that. When you held a new life like this, a little miracle, your mind couldn't process it, and all you could come up with were silly statements of the obvious.

James beamed with pride, hovering just in case Sirius dropped him. "We're calling him Harry," he said. "Harry James."

Sirius touched the tiny fingers. "Hello, Harry James." Harry's fingers closed around his, and Sirius felt his heart swell to the point it might burst.

"Listen, I'm sure this won't be a shock to you, but would you be godfather, Padfoot?" James asked.

Sirius had known the question was coming, of course. He'd have to be stupid not to. But as he looked down at Harry, it took on so much more meaning, and his vision blurred.

"Of course," he said when he could speak. "I will."

***

The christening was tiny; just Sirius, James, Lily, and the Anglican priest. Not even Peter and Remus, who worried that their presence would make the gathering too large and attract too much notice from the Death Eaters. Dumbledore agreed with them and was also absent.

Sirius was perversely glad. It was much more intimate this way, much more… well, not meaningful, but it was the closest word he could find.

He and Lily had always shared the bond of faith, but James had never given anything more than lip service to religion. Sirius knew he had a vague belief that God existed and was good, but it never really went beyond that. But now, as he held Harry for the christening, James's head was bent and his lips moved in prayer, and there was something about his posture that told Sirius James was praying with all his heart.

***

The excitement of Harry's birth had pushed aside the conversation he'd had with Remus, but it didn't erase it. Sirius found himself thinking about it at odd times; at Order meetings, when he was reading a book, when he was playing with Harry, when he was trying to sleep. The last was easily the most difficult, because any other time he could convince himself it was a discussion of abstracts. In bed, his body responded to his thoughts and the temptation to masturbate became overwhelming.

The masturbating didn't bother him at all. He was willing to accept celibacy should he ever become a priest, but he also firmly believed there was a reason twenty-one year old young men were not priests, and that was because come on, there were limits to a man's self control. And he _wasn't_ a priest right now, and if God didn't believe in a good wank, then he would have made the male body differently. Sirius thought that the Catholic Church (or its more conservative members) probably needed to indulge in what they despised on this one.

But thinking of men… thinking of _sex_ with men, that was different. And yet, he couldn't stop, even as he told himself it was wrong. The images came unbidden, and the resultant orgasms left him sweaty and breathless, far more intense than they had been before.

And then, one night, he thought of Remus.

He shouldn't. As far as he was concerned, thinking of Remus like that should be thinking of Regulus like that. But it wasn't. He could see Remus's face above him, feel Remus's hands against his skin. He couldn't really imagine more, but that was enough.

***

The sun setting did nothing to reduce the heat. There was no breeze, no movement in the humid air. Sirius sat back from his desk, brushing his sweat-damp hair out of his eyes.

The letter was the first one they'd intercepted from Regulus in months, and for some reason it was harder to crack. Regulus had used a different spell, and whatever it was, it was tricky. He glanced at the clock: two thirty in the morning.

"All right," he said out loud to the empty flat. "One more try, then I'm going to bed."

He would never admit that he was a little surprised that he found the right spells this time, because that would have to admit that he doubted his own brilliance, and that wasn't on. But this time, the words swam in front of him. Sirius grinned.

His grin slowly drained off his face as he read the letter. He jumped to his feet and ran to the fireplace.

***

"Remus! Remus, wake up!"

"Hungh?" Remus rubbed at his eyes with one hand and propped himself up on an elbow. Sirius noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt, but the letter in his hand outweighed that fact. "Sirius? What are you doing here?"

Sirius sat down on the bed, the springs squealing in protest. "It's Regulus," he said. "Here. Look at this."

Remus rubbed his eyes again and sat up fully. Sirius handed him the letter.

_ I'm going to do it. I hope you do the same, before you get in too deep. Good luck._

Remus's eyes scanned the letter several times. "Merlin's beard," he whispered. "He's…."

"We've got to find him," Sirius said urgently. "We've got to help him."

"Sirius," Remus said slowly, "how are you going to help him?"

But Sirius had already thought of that. "Someone like Voldemort won't take desertion lightly. We'll get him to Dumbledore for protection, and then we'll work things out from there. We can do it, Moony. We can save him."

In his excitement, Sirius didn't notice the sadness in Remus's eyes.

***

They Apparated to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius had never wanted to enter his family's home again, but with stakes like these, he was willing to try.

Remus watched the house appear with his head cocked to the side. "It's not what I expected," he admitted.

"What were you expecting?"

"More cobwebs in the windows, peeling paint and a spiked fence around the place. Your typical haunted house type of stuff."

"Remus, my family doesn't exactly think of themselves as evil and put up signs. Most people don't."

"Voldemort's followers are called Death Eaters."

Sirius sighed. "Touché. Well, don't die laughing when we go in, because I think the inside might live up to your expectations a bit more."

They walked up the front steps. Sirius went to open the door, but the door swung open before he could touch it, and a withered, ugly face looked up at them accusingly.

"Mistress says to go away," Kreacher informed him. "Filth such as yourself is not welcomed by my Mistress."

"I'm not here to see your precious Mistress," Sirius sneered. "I'm here to see Regulus."

Kreacher drew back as if Sirius had slapped him. "Master Regulus is not here!" he shouted, and he slammed the door.

Sirius stepped back and looked at Remus for guidance. Remus shrugged.

"If he's leaving the Death Eaters, it's not very likely he'd come home, is it?" Remus asked. "That's the first place they'd think to look for him."

"I guess," Sirius admitted. "But I don't know where else to look for him."

"I'll help you," Remus promised.

***

All the help in the world couldn't have helped. Sirius could admit that objectively, but when he saw the obituary in the newspaper the next morning- confirmation that Regulus had been dead already when Sirius had read the note- he couldn't believe it.

His brother was dead. Sirius had never known it would hurt this much.

***

"To Regulus!" James said, holding up a bottle of beer.

"To Regulus!" Peter slurred, clinking his against it.

The four of them had gathered in Sirius's flat. Both James and Peter had seen the obituary and come without Sirius's invitation, but he was grateful that they were there.

"To Regulus," he said, and drank deeply. "I should say something meaningful," he said. "I should be able to sum up his life or to honor him or something. I'm going to be a fucking priest, for God's sake. That's what I'm supposed to be good at. But I can't think of a thing. Not a single fucking thing."

"Padfoot, no one's expecting a eulogy right now," Remus said.

"Except Sirius," James pointed out. "Do you have any idea what happened to him?"

"He wanted to leave Voldemort's service," Sirius said. "It seems out of character."

"Not really," Peter mused. "I can see where Regulus- being a Black and all- agreed with the whole idea of pure-blood super… superness… no. Superty."

"How much have you had to drink, Wormtail?" Remus demanded crossly.

Peter ignored him. "Superiority," he managed. "And your family. They must have pressured him, too. And he was probably thinking just wave his wand at a few people and threaten them and walk around in menacing-looking robes and masks and people would fall into line like _that_." Peter tried to snap and failed miserably. "But then he probably found out what working for the Dark Lord really entailed. What he'd have to do. And he got scared and chickened out and decided to run away." Peter finished and took another long pull at the bottle. The other three watched him with concern.

"I think that's enough, Peter," James said.

Peter groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

James gave him a disgusted look and then turned back to Sirius. "Have you gone to see Bishop Goodwin?" he asked. "Maybe Regulus said something in Confession."

Sirius shook his head. "Even if he did- which I doubt, Regulus was never very devout- anything revealed in Confession is sacred. He's not going to just tell me, 'hey, yeah. Your brother said he was a Death Eater."

"I think you should go and see Bishop Goodwin anyway," Remus said. "Don't Catholics say Masses for the souls of people who have died?"

Remus's words were like air to a drowning man. They gave him some sense of clarity, something real he could do. Sirius smiled at him gratefully, and Remus smiled back.

And Peter threw up.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Peter!" James complained. He pulled out his wand and vanished the mess, much to Sirius's relief. "Come on. Let's get you home." He turned and rolled his eyes at Sirius and Remus. "I'll see you guys later."

"Are you coming back after you get him home?" Sirius asked hopefully.

James looked at the clock and shook his head. "No. Sorry, Padfoot, but I should get home to Lily and Harry."

"You're right," Sirius agreed manfully. "See you later."

As they left, the flat seemed quieter. Sirius got up and used the bathroom, and then grabbed two more beers for himself and Remus."

"Thanks," Remus said, taking the proffered beer. Sirius sat down beside him. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I guess. It's odd, really. We weren't close."

"But that doesn't make it any easier," Remus said sympathetically.

"No." Sirius sighed. "It does make my head hurt though."

Remus wisely took the hint and changed the subject. "James seems like he's holding up pretty well. I hear Harry's still not sleeping through the night."

Sirius chuckled. "I guess that might not come for a while, yet. I'm surprised Lily let him out of the house."

"She probably kicked him out in hopes of getting a little time to herself. He has been hovering. But I'm betting that's why he didn't bat an eyelash at Wormtail getting sick all over him," Remus hypothesized. "Peter never could hold his liquor."

"Lightweight," Sirius agreed. "Not like us." Although he was feeling a bit light and floaty, but in a good way. A very good way.

Remus slumped down on the couch next to him. Their arms were touching, and Sirius could feel the warmth of Remus's body through their thin robes. His arm was warm and solid and strong. Sirius swallowed.

"Remember that time we went to that Muggle pub?" Remus was asking. "We were just a week out of Hogwarts, and we hand to, erm, _convince_ the barman we were of age because we didn't exactly have IDs, and Peter looks like he's about fourteen anyway."

Sirius made noises of agreement as Remus rambled on, but he was really watching Remus's foot. It was long and slender, arched against the table. The alcohol blurred his mind enough that he couldn't process consequences.

He leaned over and kissed Remus.

Remus stopped talking mid-sentence, his eyes flaring open with shock. Sirius saw them because his own eyes were opened. They stayed there for a long minute, not so much kissing as joined at the lips, staring at each other. Then Remus gently pulled away.

"Not tonight," he said quietly, his voice trembling. "Not tonight, Sirius."

"Why not?"

"Because you've had a shock, and you're hurting." Remus sighed. "Don't mistake me, Sirius. I'm willing. I'm more than willing, believe me. But not tonight, when it would feel like taking advantage of you."

Sirius nodded.

"If you think about this for a while, and this is still something you want, let me know," Remus said. He smiled, leaned in, and kissed Sirius on the lips. "I'll be here."

***

_Think about it,_ Remus had told him. That was easy enough- Sirius couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was odd in some ways. Of course he'd thought about sex before, and a lot. But most of his fantasies had been vague, nameless faces and bodies and feelings, or absurd- the sorts of fantasies that were fun to think about, but no one really wanted to come true because the reality would be horrible. There was safety in those sorts of fantasies.

Safety. When Sirius realized that, in the middle of a plan Dumbledore was describing to some members of the Order, it brought him up short. Safety implied fear.

Sirius Black was _scared_ of sex? Impossible.

He couldn't talk to James about it. James would laugh his arse off. He obviously couldn't talk to Remus. And talking to Peter was akin to talking to your grandmother about sex. You couldn't, because they might actually offer good advice and then you'd have to face the fact that they'd had sex and that was just _wrong_.

It took until mid-October, when the leaves were dancing in the swirling wind and the air was crisp with the smell of cold and bonfires. Then he finally was able to nonchalantly stay after Sunday Mass one morning, helping Bishop Goodwin tidy up.

"Although why I need help is beyond me," Bishop Goodwin admitted. "We've never had many parishioners to begin with, and fewer and fewer are willing to venture out in these dark times. I've never seen attendance at Sunday Mass so low."

"You'd think people would be here," Sirius mused. "Aren't times of fear and crisis supposed to bring out devotion?"

"Yes, but when the very act of leaving your house could expose you to an attack, praying at home becomes a more appealing option. I hope we haven't reached the point where those in the congregation are Death Eaters."

"I'm here," Sirius pointed out.

Bishop Goodwin looked at him with a mock stern glance. "You're Sirius Black. The danger only makes it more appealing to you. You're like a fictional paladin, going into war with prayers to God on your lips."

It was a description that pleased Sirius to no end. He grinned. "You know me too well."

"Indeed I do. Now, my son, what are you here for? You only ever stay until everyone's gone if you have something to talk about."

Sirius sighed. But since Bishop Goodwin had guessed, he might as well dive right in. "I have questions about sex," he said, not bothering to couch it in pretense.

Bishop Goodwin smiled. "I'm not surprised. Shall we adjourn to my study?"

Bishop Goodwin's study was the same as it had been all of Sirius's life, with a polished wood desk, deep, comfortable maroon chairs, and a Hufflepuff banner in the corner. "Interesting question," Bishop Goodwin said as he began setting out the makings of tea. "If Jesus went to Hogwarts, what House do you think He'd be in?"

Sirius thought about it. "I'm not sure," he admitted.

"They all fit, don't they?"

"Not Slytherin."

"Really?" Bishop Goodwin raised his eyebrows. "Oh, that's right, you're a Gryffindor. And a rebel Black, for that matter. So let me remind you that the defining House trait is not pure-bloodedness or bigotry, but ambition."

"Still doesn't fit," Sirius said.

"I don't know. I'd call someone who stared off with twelve devoted followers and ended up with billions world wide, spanning over two millenia _quite_ ambitious."

Sirius blinked. "I never thought of it before."

"Most people don't. I remember shocking Father Silas with that one. I believe he made me say a few Hail Marys after I said that." Sirius chuckled, and Bishop Goodwin went on. "Most people forget that priests are not divine beings of God who grew up with ambitions of being saints, but ordinary men called on to minister to others. We have lives, and we've done things that most people don't picture priests as doing."

"Like having sex," Sirius said with a smirk.

"Like having sex," Bishop Goodwin agreed.

"Have _you_ had sex?" Sirius asked.

"I would be lying to say I have not," Bishop Goodwin said, handing Sirius a cup, "but I don't think that that's the matter at hand."

"Well, it's related," Sirius said. "I still want to go back to seminary. Very much. And once Voldemort-"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Bishop Goodwin corrected sternly.

"Fine, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Sirius said, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. "Once he's defeated, I will return. But at the same time… there's this… this friend of mine. I didn't realize I had feelings for them, but I do. Strong ones. And they feel…" Sirius had to stop, because he didn't know how Remus really felt about him, versus how he felt about sex. "Well, they feel something, too."

Bishop Goodwin took off his glasses and twirled the ear piece. "I see," he said at length. "Sirius, I believe you must use this time away from Seminary to explore your feelings."

Sirius pulled back. "What, actually have sex?"

Bishop Goodwin looked at him levelly. "Sirius, you're one of the brightest lads I've ever met. I am a Catholic priest. Do you truly believe I am counseling you to have premarital intercourse?"

"No, sir."

"Very well, then. I am not counseling you to have intercourse. But," Bishop Goodwin held up a finger, "I do think you need to consider what you truly want in life. You intend to become a priest, yes. But you have taken no vows at this point. If you decide that you want a wife and a family, there is no sin in you changing your mind and pursuing that course. It does not mean giving up God, or even a life of service. If you take your vows, you need to go into them with your eyes open, knowing your options and choosing this because it is what you truly believe, and what you truly feel called to do."

"I do want it," Sirius insisted.

"I believe you. But I also know that you are twenty-one. You are very young, and you come from a family that has undoubtedly given you an… interesting perspective on love." Bishop Goodwin smiled. "It's not a Godly thing to admit, but if I grew up with your mother, I would fear all women myself."

"I've never had a girlfriend," Sirius admitted.

Bishop Goodwin smiled, but the smile faded fast. "And that does concern me, Sirius. It makes me wonder how educated of a choice you are making. And perhaps God has a different plan for you. Perhaps He's giving you a different opportunity."

"He might be, but it's my choice as to which ones I take," Sirius pointed out.

"All the same, I encourage you to seriously consider these feelings you are having," Bishop Goodwin said. "They may lead to something you want more."

Sirius nodded, looking down at his fingers. "And… and if I decided to have sex?"

"Well, I can't stop you. But I would put forth the idea that God did not make His rules to make us miserable; He made them because He truly knows what's best for us."

"But it wouldn't be an unforgivable sin."

"I'm not going to grant you absolution, Sirius. One would hope that if you know something is a sin, you would do your best to resist temptation." The bishop rubbed his eyes. "Confession ahead of time does not grant you the right to go ahead and do it anyway."

"I'm sorry."

Bishop Goodwin pulled himself together. "Sirius, millions of young men and women have struggled with exactly what you're struggling with right now. Chastity is not easy, not when you are in love. I will say that priests have had premarital sex before taking their vows, you would neither be the first nor the last. But again, what I most encourage you to do is to consider what you really want for your life. God is giving you an important sign; be sure you read it correctly."

***

It was a whirlpool of sin and desire, wants and dreams. Sirius couldn't make sense of it. After a while, he stopped trying.

***

"Sirius," Lily said on Christmas Eve, "I have a big favor to ask of you."

"Anything, Lily, you know that." Sirius was sitting on the floor, dangling a teddy bear for Harry, who was clumsily grabbing at it. "Want me to go out and slay the bad guys? Rescue your manly husband from distress? Or just get a quart of milk?"

"Actually, it's worse than any of that," Lily said solemnly.

"Oh, no. Oh, _no_!" Sirius fell back dramatically, draping his arm over his eyes. "No! Not the heathens!"

Lily laughed. "We will corrupt your soul," she hissed. But then she turned serious. "Will you go with me tonight, Sirius? I really want to go, but James doesn't want me going out alone. And he doesn't want us taking Harry out if we don't have to."

Sirius removed the arm and looked over at her. "Sure, Lily. I'll sacrifice my immortal soul and go to a pagan ritual. Anything for you."

Lily came over and kicked him lightly in the ribs. "You're impossible," she said, but she knew him well enough to know that he meant "yes."

Sirius would never forget that midnight mass in 1980. Not because it was Anglican. He'd been to a handful of Anglican services before that, and despite his blandishments, insults, and protests, he believed God was God and it wasn't really _that_ different, anyway. And not because it filled him with peace. Quite the contrary. His soul was restless when he arrived, and it only became more agitated as he sat and listened.

It was hard to hear about God's love when he thought of the people they'd lost. He'd been lucky enough not to lose any of those dearest to him, but the Order had lost members he considered friends, people had been killed simply for having the wrong ancestors… and Regulus. Regulus's own stupidity had gotten him killed.

That was hard enough, but when he looked at Lily, the candlelight glinting off her red hair, her face serene but her hands twisting in constant worry, and he thought of the life Harry was growing into… it was hard to remind himself that God had a plan, and everything happened for a reason. Maybe it did, but he couldn't fathom what it might possibly be.

They walked back to Godric's Hollow slowly, not bothering to Apparate. There was snow falling, and a hush came with it. Sirius reached out and took Lily's mittened hand in his. She squeezed it, smiling back at him.

"Are you scared, Sirius?" she asked.

"Yes," he admitted.

Lily chuckled. "The true power of Voldemort," she said dryly. "He can scare even the courageous Sirius Black."

Sirius smiled. "I'm not scared of him for me," he said. "But I'm scared of losing James, or Remus, or Peter, or you. Or, God forbid, Harry." Lily squeezed his hand. "My own death I can make peace with pretty easily. But losing someone… that's hard."

"I know what you mean," Lily said.

They arrived at the house, and both of them smiled to see the warm lights in the windows. "Looks like 'Santa' is still up," Lily said. "I thought he might be."

James wasn't the only one there. Remus was helping him decorate the tree, laughing as James argued with the fairy lights. The golden light shone down on his face, and with a start Sirius realized just how intensely attractive Remus still was to him. The feeling only intensified when Remus looked at him and smiled.

"You walked home?" James demanded from Lily.

"James, please don't. It's Christmas." Lily came over and kissed her husband. "Besides, I was with Sirius. We were safe enough. It looks beautiful. Harry will love it."

James softened at her reassurance and her praise. "Of course he'll love it," he said, "lots of shiny things. But hey, everyone should get what they want on Christmas."

_Everyone should get what they want on Christmas._ Suddenly, Sirius came to an abrupt decision. He turned to Remus. "That sounded like a come on line if I ever heard one," he leered, and James flushed red. "Shall we purloin some of that eggnog, head to my place, and let the lovebirds get it on?"

"Such class," Remus laughed, Transfiguring his glass into a more suitable carrying vessel. "I'll bring the glass back next time I see you." James just shook his head and laughed.

They took the motorbike back to Sirius's place. The night air was cold on Sirius's face, and Remus's arms were warm around his waist. Despite the fact it was two in the morning, he felt awake and alive.

Remus had always known him as well as he knew himself; Sirius knew this. But still, it took him by surprise when they entered the flat and Remus kissed him, warm and sure and firm. But he melted into it, letting Remus back him over to the couch and falling down onto it when it hit him in the back of the knees.

They'd kissed once before, an aborted effort that had been lovely even so. And Sirius had kissed Gabriel, several times. But never once had it felt like this. With Gabriel, it was easy enough to stop. With Remus, Sirius could tell it would be impossible.

Good thing he didn't want to.

He laid back on the couch and pulled Remus down on top of him, so their bodies were aligned. Remus groaned, kissing him more deeply and tangling his hands in Sirius's hair. Sirius's hands ran down Remus's back, and suddenly he realized they were both still wearing their cloaks. He began to laugh.

Remus pulled away. "What's so funny?"

Sirius tried to work the clasp of Remus's cloak. "This." It was hard, partly because he'd never done it on someone else, especially from this position, and partly because his fingers were brushing against Remus's cheeks, and it was an intoxicating feeling.

Remus looked down at what he was doing and chuckled. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, undid the clasp with one hand, and let the cloak slide down to the floor. "Maybe I should ask while we're paused," he said, "but what _do_ you want to do?"

Sirius grinned at him; a hell-bent, eager smile that hid the butterflies threatening to rip his stomach in half.

"Everything."

***

He'd asked Remus to start off big, to get over what he feared the most. "You don't have to do it, Padfoot," Remus had laughed, but Sirius simply insisted he wanted to. He didn't have to argue very hard.

It was uncomfortable, even to the point of pain. But a few well-consumed eggnogs helped, and so did Remus's gentle ministrations. Before long his hands were twisted in his bed sheets in pleasure, and he was moving with Remus's thrusts, which were growing more erratic by the second. He came with his face buried in the pillow, his entire body trembling with the spasms and overcome with the sensation.

***

They fell asleep afterwards, wrapped around each other, Sirius's head on Remus's shoulder. It was hot and sweaty and Sirius's arm began to hurt, but he couldn't bring himself to move away. Not just yet.

***

Remus woke him with gentle kisses on his shoulders. The kisses moved down his body, following Remus's warm weight and hands. Sirius rolled over on his back and tipped his head back, his fingers toying with the soft ends of Remus's hair. He'd never realized anything could feel quite like this.

He returned the favor, clumsily but eagerly. He was self-conscious at first, but his efforts left Remus gasping and writhing against the bed, and he couldn't help but be immensely pleased with himself.

***

They made Christmas breakfast together, laughing at first and then discovering cooking bacon naked was not the best idea. When the messy feast was finished, they brought it back to bed with them, eating carefully so as not to get powdered sugar and jelly in the sheets. Breakfast culminated with a wrestling match, which led to another round of lovemaking.

When Sirius closed his eyes that Christmas day, all he could see was light.

***

"I don't want to go tomorrow," Remus said that night, as he lay nestled in the crook of Sirius's arm.

"So don't."

"I have to," Remus groaned. "Work."

"For the Order? Or something else?" Remus shook his head, and Sirius sighed. "You could stay," he offered again. "Blow it off and stay one more day."

Remus pulled away and folded his hands beneath his cheek. "I want to," he said. "Believe me, I want to." But there was a sadness in his eyes.

"Remus?"

Remus just shook his head. "Let's not talk about it, Sirius. James was right, everyone deserves to get what they want for Christmas. Let me have Christmas, and then we'll deal with the rest later."

***

The sun hadn't even come up yet when Remus got out of bed, shrugging on the robes that hadn't touched his body in over twenty four hours. Sirius turned over, watching him. "Do you really have to go?" he asked, one more time.

"You know the answer to that," Remus answered.

"I know. But I didn't want yesterday to end."

"Me neither." Remus leaned over and kissed Sirius on the lips. "But it does."

Sirius was used to Boxing Day being a flat sort of day, with nothing to do but wait another whole year for Christmas to come again. But today it was worse than usual, and Sirius found himself at odd ends. He decided to go bother James.

The Potter house was far more cheerful, and when Sirius entered, he was greeted by a delighted squeal from Harry. The living room was strewn with glittering bits of wrapping paper and various toys, and the fairies were lounging around indolently until James and Sirius walked in. "Looks like it was a good Christmas," Sirius said.

"Lily and I enjoyed it," James admitted ruefully. "Harry just chewed on the wrapping paper." He cocked his head and studied Sirius. "We were surprised you didn't make an appearance. Or Remus."

"Yeah, well." Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. "We were busy."

James stared at him for a long moment, and then sank down to the couch. "Oh, Sirius! You didn't!"

Sirius blushed. "I did. Well, we did. What's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing, if that was really what you wanted."

"How do you know it's not?" Sirius asked.

"Well, maybe it is. But Sirius, it's _Remus_."

"Afraid I'll hurt his delicate sensibilities?" Sirius scoffed.

"No," James said, perfectly seriously. "Afraid you'll fall in love. And then, when this war ends and you can go back to seminary, you're going to have to choose, and the choice between Remus and priesthood will tear you apart, no matter which one you choose."


	4. Chapter 4

"The thing is, he's right," Sirius said to Remus two nights later. "I don't want to admit it, but he is."

"I know."

They were in Remus's poky little rathole. Sirius was sitting on the sagging sofa, head in his hands. But when he looked up, Remus was standing against the wall, perfectly composed and calm.

"You know?" he said.

"Of course. I've always known."

He wasn't lying. Sirius could see that. "So why then?"

"Why did I sleep with you?" Remus raised his eyebrows with amusement. "I wanted to, Sirius. It's that simple. I figured I'd better take the chance while I had it. And I got the added bonus of being your first." He shrugged.

"So you're not upset?" Sirius asked.

"Like I said, I expected it."

Sirius sighed, knowing Remus well enough to know that was the only answer he was going to get. And that if he was giving this sort of answer, there was more to the story.

Somehow, he had a feeling he'd fucked up big time.

***

There was no time to think about it, because the next day Dumbledore sent them all word that the Prewett brothers had been killed. The news hit Sirius harder than he'd expected. He hadn't been in any way close to Fabian or Gideon, but he supposed that after Fabian had been wounded, he thought that was all that the Prewett brothers were going to have to take. That it somehow made them safe. It was an illusion he didn't realize he held, but it was startling to have it shattered regardless.

But the Prewett brothers had been tough- no one had ever doubted that. And when they went down, they took Death Eaters with them.

Death Eaters had been killed before, but never so publicly. The news was like a spark to dry tinder, and the effects flared into flame. Disappearances increased. Attacks became more frequent. No one was safe.

Not even Sirius.

It was to be expected that the Death Eaters would attack him. Sirius had always seen it coming. It happened one night in January, when water froze running down the window panes and eyelashes froze together. He'd been in bed when the Death Eaters exploded into his flat, masked and a whirlwind of robes and confusion. He managed to grab his wand and fire off a few curses, but quickly realized he was outnumbered. He tried to Apparate, but it was no good.

He smelled smoke, and he swore. But there was no time to look around- two Death Eaters were firing curses at him and it was only his bed and a Shield Charm that were keeping him alive right now. But if the flat was going to be wrecked anyway….

"_Accio motorbike!_"

There was no doubt about it in Sirius's mind. If his home was going to be destroyed and he was going to be attacked by Death Eaters, he might as well escape with style. A flying motorbike breaking through the walls, stopping as he hopped on, and then speeding away and breaking through the opposite wall fit the bill perfectly.

Too bad it was January, though, because Sirius slept naked and the Death Eaters weren't overly considerate about letting him pause the battle for a robe. But it did make it much easier to moon them as he left.

***

"You and Lily ought to join a club," James said solemnly as he brought a shivering Sirius a pair of his own pajamas, a cup of tea, and a bottle of whiskey. "You have to flash a Death Eater to get in."

"At least one of them should have died with jealousy," Sirius said, but his teeth were chattering too much to smile properly. He scowled, laced the tea James handed him liberally with the whiskey, and then gulped it gratefully. "Don't you think?"

"I haven't been checking you out when you're naked, Padfoot," James said dryly. But there was no fire in his voice.

"What happened?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing," James clearly lied.

That only scared Sirius more. "James, what's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

James shook his head. "Not tonight, Sirius. It's been a rough night for all of us."

"All of us? I was the one that was nearly killed!"

"And if you don't know how badly that scares me, you don't know me at all, Padfoot." James stepped forward and hugged Sirius tightly. Sirius hugged him back. "Do you need anything else?" James asked.

"Nope. Not me. I'm fine."

"Well, goodnight then."

"Good night."

Sirius waited until James was out of the room, and then went over to the bookshelf. As he suspected, Lily's Bible was there. He pulled it out and padded back to the sofa, tapping it with his wand. The sofa flew open to a bed, and Sirius lay down, pulled the blankets James had given him around himself, and opened the Bible to the Book of Job. But as he tried to read, the words swam in front of him.

In the back of his mind, he was worried about James. Something was clearly wrong, but Sirius also had no doubt that James would tell him what it was tomorrow. It was easy enough to dismiss. What was much harder to forget was the image of what could have happened, if Sirius had been asleep in the Rectory as opposed to asleep in his own flat.

For the first time, he actively thanked God that he hadn't attended seminary after all.

***

"All right," Sirius said when James appeared the next morning, rumpled and barely awake. "What's going on?"

"Coffee," James groaned. "I need coffee."

Sirius handed him a cup, which James regarded with confusion. "Not only did I understand how scared you were last night," Sirius said, "but I also understand your caffeine addiction. Drink, and tell me what the hell is going on?"

James sat down at the kitchen table and took the proffered mug. "Thank you," he muttered, and drank deeply. "One more cup," he gasped, wiping his mouth with his pajama sleeve. Sirius refilled his mug, and James sipped it more slowly. Finally, he said, "There's this prophecy."

"Oh, good God, no."

"I know. We both think Divination is a load of rubbish. Believe me, it drives me crazy to even _have_ to take this seriously. But Voldemort apparently believes in it, and he's certainly not a load of rubbish. As you can very well testify."

"So there's this prophecy?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah. Apparently, a child was born last July to parents who thrice defied Voldemort who will be the key to his undoing."

Sirius groaned. "And you and Lily have defied Voldemort plenty of times." The realization kept dawning on him. "Wait a minute. I assume Voldemort's not going to just sit around and wait for Harry to grow into adulthood."

James shook his head grimly.

"Oh, God. Then that means…." Sirius buried his head in his hands, and then pulled himself together long enough to hug James. "I'm sorry."

James returned the embrace for a moment and then sat back. "It's not as bad as it sounds," he said in a voice that was obviously a bad attempt at being cheerful. "Harry's not the only one that fits the prophecy."

"Who else does?" Sirius asked, mentally tallying the names.

"Neville Longbottom. And Dumbledore says there may even be others, but those are the only two he can think of. But right now, he thinks any deliberate hiding will put both kids in danger. If Voldemort _isn't_ aware of the two kids, then he will become aware of them. And if he is, he might decide to go after the other one immediately, before they can hide."

"I can't believe it."

"It gets worse."

"Worse? How can it get worse?"

"You've heard the rumors of a spy in the Order?" James asked. Sirius nodded. "They're not rumors. Dumbledore is positive that someone in the Order has gone over."

"Does he have any suspicions on who?"

"No," James sighed. "Worse, he doesn't even know if they're doing it voluntarily or if they've truly switched sides. The Death Eaters are using the Imperius Curse these days."

"But it really increases the danger, doesn't it?"

James nodded. Down the hall, they heard Harry wake up with short, hiccuping cries. James stood up, but Lily's soft voice soothing Harry made him sit back down. "Sirius, are we going to get through this?" James asked.

"You will," Sirius said, more determined than he'd ever been in his life. "I'll see to it that you will."

***

PART TWO.

 

The door slammed behind him. Sirius ran to it, trying to fling himself between the bars and the door before it closed, but to no avail. The clang echoed through the cell and through his soul.

He threw himself at the door, screaming as he did so. The door didn't budge, but he attacked it again and again, clawing at it with his bare hands. The wood wore away the skin and left splinters under his nails, but it did not give way.

He didn't stop until his throat was raw and his fingers were bloody, and only then because the anger had seeped away, leaving grief to dominate. Sirius sank to the ground, huddled against the door and sobbing. The image of James and Lily dead was still fresh in his mind, and the presence of the Dementors only intensified it.

_But I didn't do it._

The thought gave him strength, even as the guilt washed over him. He should have known better than to trust Peter. In retrospect, it was all so clear. But Remus had seemed more logical, just by virtue of being smarter. Smarter and better.

He should have known that Remus… well, he should have known why things were different with Remus. Why Remus acted differently around him. Ever since Christmas. He didn't want to believe it was because of the sex, but it was. At least part of it. James had hinted at other issues, other problems, other things Remus was fighting, but Sirius hadn't wanted to listen, because if he thought too much about Remus, he'd have to think about the mistakes he'd made.

He ran his hands through his hair desperately, taking deep breaths. Idly he noticed that there was a tiny window, high above where he could reach, and the night was falling. It was cold in the cell, and when he touched his face, his skin was icy where it was wet. There was straw on the floor and a bucket in the corner. He shivered and turned away, huddling in on himself, pulling his robe tight around his body.

He desperately wanted to pray, but the words just wouldn't come.

***

"I understood when my family was the way they are. I understood when You showed me I could not love them. I understood when You took the Potters away. I tried to rationalize that You made Remus a werewolf. I've seen dead children, dead fathers and husbands, dead wives and mothers. I've watched families be torn apart and murdered by a power hungry madman. But I don't understand this.

"I wanted to serve You! I wanted to spread Your Word, to help people! And what do You do? You let one of my best friends betray us so that my very best friend- my brother- and his wife were killed! You left their son an orphan! You left my other best friend alone in the world, believing it all happened! And You let them blame ME!

"Why? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

For the first time in his life, he was angry with God. Really, truly, angry, as angry as he'd been at his family, as angry as he was at Peter. And in Azkaban, anger came easily.

***

Days crept by; long, monotonous days of boredom. Sirius began to discover a rhythm to life in Azkaban: daily meals, prisoners coming in, corpses leaving. His cell had bars for one wall, like an animal's cage. He could see the Dementors float by; hear the ramblings of other prisoners.

There was a cell across from him, with a heavyset man imprisoned inside. Sirius didn't want to talk to him, but after a while he had to. "What are you in for?"

"Murder. Well, essentially," the man said. He smiled, revealing a row of decaying teeth. "Same as you, I imagine."

Sirius lifted his chin. "In theory. But I didn't do it."

"Right. You keep telling yourself that."

Sirius couldn't look away from the teeth. Is that what his own mouth would look like in twenty years? Twenty years. The thought hit him like a load of bricks, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse back into the filthy straw and cry. But he kept himself on his feet. "It has to be true," he said. "I couldn't imagine it- the Dementors would suck it away."

The man considered for a long time. "Reckon you're right about that," he conceded. "My name's Tarquin McTavish."

Sirius knew the name, and groaned inwardly. But he nodded. "Sirius Black."

"Yeah? One of the Blacks? Not surprised to see you in here, then." Tarquin grinned wider. "Me, I managed to get my Muggle neighbor into a kettle. Don't much consider that murder, myself. After all, he was still _alive_ in there, until they tried to get him out. But that's not my fault that he died."

Sirius felt sick. For once in his life, he was at an utter loss for words.

"You know any Muggles?" Tarquin asked him.

"Yeah, a fair few," Sirius said, anger straightening his spine. Might as well blast the bastard with a little exaggerated truth- it would be good entertainment if nothing else. "My first boyfriend was a Muggle."

He was disappointed. Instead of shock or outrage, Tarquin just snorted. "Can't be mixing with Muggles too much," he said. "Surprised you were. Spent a lot of time with them?"

"I went to seminary," Sirius said.

Taquin laughed. It was a heavy, mirthless laugh that chilled Sirius to the bone. It occurred to him that Taquin was far too lucid for the amount of time he'd obviously spent here, which meant he probably didn't regret what he'd done at all.

He drew back against the wall, shaking. How was he going to get through this?

***

Days turned into years. His hair grew long and matted, his body withered into skin and bones. They never gave him a new robe, and the one he wore became ragged and worn. His skin peeled and cracked from untreated frostbite in the winter, and his fingers became infected from biting the nails to the quick.

He'd discovered he could still turn into a dog. It was a comfort, because when he was a dog he couldn't think nearly as clearly, and the Dementors couldn't overwhelm him.

Tarquin began to deteriorate. Their conversations became more eccentric; more erratic. Sirius noticed he began to stop eating, and the Dementors frequented their corridor more often. They seemed excited, although Sirius couldn't explain how he knew that. And then finally the death came, and it was like a sweet release, because the Dementors' presence was diminished afterwards.

The oddities stood out. He remembered Barty Crouch being brought in. He seemed a boy, but later, Sirius remembered that he was only two years younger than himself. He'd been a Hufflepuff, Sirius vaguely recalled, but he didn't remember much more about him. He could hear the young man screaming down the hall, begging for his mother.

That was one thing Sirius never did.

***

Visits from Ministry Officials were not that rare, but Sirius savored them as a break in the indistinguishable days and nights. Most of them shied away from his cell, as if he had the power to kill them from within.

Many times, he wished he did.

The first few times, he'd tried begging that he was innocent. But the officials either turned deaf ears or stared at him with contempt. One spat at him, and one fired a rather nasty curse that took a few days to wear off.

He was sitting in the corner staring at the empty cell across from him when the officials came through. Most of them had cross expressions, but one- a younger, thin redhead with a receding hairline and glasses- was shivering. There was something about his expression as he looked around, something more compassionate than Sirius had ever seen on an official's face. He reached through the bars and touched the man's robe.

The man started out of his own misery, and then shrank back, swallowing hard, as he saw Sirius's face. Sirius took a deep breath.

"Please," he said, as nicely as he knew how. His voice was rough with disuse and sounded strange in his own ears. "If you can, please send me a Bible."

The man blinked in surprise. "A Bible?" he asked incredulously.

"Please," Sirius begged. "A Bible. Any version. Any condition. But please, a Bible. I used to-"

"Weasley!" another voice called. "Come on! We're going!"

Weasley looked at Sirius for one more long moment, then drew his cloak around him and hurried away. Sirius leapt to his feet and clung to the bars. "Please!" he shouted after the rapidly retreating figure. "Just a Bible!"

There was no answer.

There was no answer, but a month later a Dementor pushed a battered Bible through the bars. There was no note attached, no name given. For a wild, desperate moment Sirius thought that maybe Remus had remembered him, but the hope drained out of him instantly. Remus would never do something like this, and he remembered Weasley.

"I didn't do it," Sirius whispered as he held the book in his hands. "I am innocent."

And when he looked down at the cover, he was able to manage a glimmer of a smile.

***

He'd expected reading the Bible to bring him peace. He hadn't realized- even after seven years- exactly what the Dementors could do. Instead of peace and hope, he found himself finding questions in the text. Anger. Violence and hatred. Contradictions. And he began to doubt.

He threw the Bible across the cell. It hit the stone wall and fell like a wounded bird, and that only made him feel guilty rather than feeling better. He ran over and scooped it up, whispering apologies and contrition. The pages were rumpled but intact. He gently put the book in a corner, and then retreated across the room, staring at it.

***

Sometimes he could read Paul's letters. They were hard, because he'd never liked Paul, misogynistic bastard that Sirius believed he was. Before, he'd stifled those thoughts, because Paul had written a good portion of the New Testament and there was far more good in his words than bad. But here in Azkaban, all Sirius could see was what he hated.

He wondered if Paul was secretly gay. Wouldn't that be funny? The humor leached out of him, and he deflated as soon as he thought it.

But regardless, Paul had been a prisoner. Okay, so at least Paul had _done_ what they accused him of, but he was still- in Sirius's mind- wrongfully imprisoned. He wasn't allowed the feelings of comfort and hope- they were taken as soon as they began to burgeon- but they did give him a grim determination that kept him alive and helped keep him sane.

***

Nightmares used to be an occasional thing, coming only when he slept and banished by the light of day. Now he saw them all the time, dancing in front of his eyes, and the worst part was, they were all real.

The day he realized he hated his family. The day he left home. The time he was stupid enough to send Snape to the Whomping Willow. Every time Remus had been disappointed in him. The few times he and James had fought.

The day he'd been refused from seminary. The days the Potters had died. Watching James vomit blood. Watching Remus transform. Death after death that he couldn't stop. Helplessness. Rage. The day Regulus had died, and Sirius couldn't do anything to stop it.

Finding James. Finding Lily. Finding Harry. Harry being taken from him, whisked away with the barest of good-byes. Harry growing up without him. Remus believing that he'd betrayed James and Lily and Harry, and that he'd killed those Muggles.

Peter betraying them all.

His mind was shattered fragments, whirling together and drowning him in the undertow. Only one thought cut through it, and he clung to it desperately.

_I am innocent._

***

Fudge wore a yellow pinstriped robe, as if the bright color could keep the effects of the Dementors away. Not only was it the ugliest thing Sirius had ever seen, it obviously wasn't working. Well, good.

He leaned against the grate, watching the delegation pass by. Fudge shot him a harried, haunted look. Sirius met his gaze evenly.

"Say, would you mind if I took your paper, if you're done with it?" he said. "I've really missed doing the crossword."

"Here." Fudge handed it to him hastily, as if Sirius would reach out between the bars and strangle him for not complying.

"Thank you," Sirius said, as graciously as he could manage.

Fudge nodded and scooted away like a frightened rat. Sirius frowned fiercely at the analogy. _I am innocent,_ he told himself again, as the whirlpool of anger and grief opened beneath him. _I didn't do it. I didn't kill those Muggles._

He opened the paper, and then swore as he realized he'd forgotten he didn't have a quill. Nonetheless, he actually had some reading material. He thumbed through.

It was Weasley who caught his eye first. He was waving cheerfully with a brood of children. Sirius remembered his face, pale and scared and sweating despite the bitter cold. Here he looked happy and sure of himself. To his mild surprise, he noticed Molly Prewett standing next to him. She'd aged and put on weight, but he'd know her. That day in the hospital- the damage to Fabian Prewett and the futility of it all- that had stuck with him through Azkaban. And he'd known she was married to a-

And then he saw the rat.

Peter Pettigrew, fed and plump and sitting on a boy's shoulder. Sirius's mouth hung open, especially as he noticed the paw with one missing toe. Not that he needed that evidence. He'd know Peter's Animagus form anywhere.

He looked at the caption beneath, and saw that the brood attended Hogwarts. _Hogwarts_, where Harry must be.

Sirius threw the paper down and howled.

***

The water was so cold it cut to the bone. He couldn't breathe, but he struggled on anyway. _Harry. I have to get to Harry. I have to get to Harry._

The water rose and splashed against his force, salt entering his nose and the waves sending him back. He swam on doggedly. The pun made him grin inside.

When was the last time he'd smiled? He couldn't think that now, or he'd feel like dying, and here in the ocean, he'd do just that.

Suddenly, he felt sand beneath his paws. He took a few more strokes and was able to walk, wading through the water. He staggered out of the water, pushing every muscle to exhaustion to get as far away from the water as he could. Then he fell against the sand, the rain beating down on his body, too tired to move or transform.

_Thank Merlin_, his mind whispered, and then he fell asleep.

***

Sunlight. Sirius had forgotten how beautiful sunlight was. He tipped his face up to enjoy it as he trotted down the road.

He had not expected Harry to look so much like James, but he should have. It had thrown him, because he remembered James at thirteen and it was like watching the past come back to life. But the memories were good ones, and even if they hurt, Sirius was glad they were there.

Memories had come back to him in a painful flood, one that literally kept him on the ground under their weight. He'd been forced to turn into a dog again to control the flow. He couldn't concentrate… couldn't think. Not like this. But for now, he was able to walk along this dusty road, headed towards Hogwarts. There was enough time to be a bit leisurely before the term started, and walking helped keep him so tired that he couldn't think too hard.

He heard music. Music was something he had missed desperately in Azkaban, and his ears perked up at the sound. It was beautiful and clear, cutting through the summer morning joyfully.

Church bells.

The sound froze his soul. He stopped in his tracks, and then turned tail and ran the other way, as fast as he could. He didn't stop until all he could hear was his heart pounding and his breath coming in rapid gasps. He collapsed in a wooded area and transformed back into a man.

He lay on the leaves for a long moment, trying to regain his composure. But his fingers clawed the earth and he found himself crying, for reasons he didn't understand.

***

The Forbidden Forest was much like he remembered it. The castle of Hogwarts was exactly like he remembered it. The people around it… they weren't.

All right. Dumbledore, when he spotted him, looked the same. And so did Hagrid, although there was a little more gray in his wild black hair, and a few more lines around the eyes. Snape was still greasy and sallow and flat-out ugly, but he was older, his hair was different, and he radiated an authority that made Sirius's hair stand on end. McGonagall was older and grayer; Sirius remembered when he and James had joked she had a full dominatrix getup hiding in her room.

But nothing compared to the shock of seeing Remus Lupin again.

He hadn't expected it, not at all, and the sight of Remus made him flee to the safety of the Forbidden Forest, because Remus was one of two people left on Earth who would recognize him in this form. But from under the cover of leaves, he peeked out.

Remus was walking alone, intent on whatever thoughts were in his head. He was thin and wan, with crinkles at the corners of his eyes and gray in his hair. His robes were mended with meticulous care, but even care couldn't hide the multitude of patches. He glanced at the Forest and smiled a grim smile, and Sirius realized how hard being here must be for him. Hell, it was hard for himself, with the ghosts of their younger selves ready to pop up at every turn.

Sirius desperately wanted to run to him, to transform and explain everything. But he was wandless, and Remus had lived for twelve years believing Sirius to have betrayed them all, and killed James, Lily, _and_ Peter. Sirius had the suspicion he wouldn't live long enough to explain- if the situation was reversed, Remus sure wouldn't, he was honest enough to admit that.

He would have to wait.

***

He'd waited for twelve years in the Hell that was Azkaban. He waited for nine months in the Forbidden Forest. He focused on Peter, on revenge, on Harry's safety, because anything else was too hard and too painful to dwell on. And finally, one night in June, he got what was coming to him. Revenge, forgiveness, Remus, and Harry.

Well, almost. But almost was more than he'd expected. It would have to do.

***

Sirius lay on the grass, staring up the sky. Next to him, Buckbeak munched lazily on a squirrel. The crunch of bone was rather nauseating, but Sirius had heard far worse in his time.

Finally, the speck he expected appeared. He sat up eagerly, watching as the speck grew. He could make out wings, legs, a rider… Remus on a thestral. He smiled, leaping to his feet and waving his arms.

"If that's your version of subterfuge, it amazes me that you've stayed uncaptured this entire year," Remus said dryly as the thestral landed and he slid off.

"Git," Sirius said affectionately. "Please tell me you brought food."

"As much as I could get without arousing suspicion," Remus said, pulling a bag off the back of the thestral. "Fortunately, with all of Hogwarts now knowing my condition, that wasn't hard."

Sirius noticed the dry, self-deprecating smile and new bitterness etched into Remus's expression, but before he could say anything his nose caught the scent of chicken soup and he immediately homed in on the thermos in Remus's hand.

"Eat it slowly," Remus said, pouring Sirius a cup. "I know you would have preferred something with a little more meat to it, but your stomach needs something easy to digest. If you can keep that down for an hour, I'll give you the bread."

"My stomach's fine, Moony," Sirius protested. The soup was heavenly, with homemade noodles, lots of vegetables, and a meaty broth. He burnt his tongue, but he couldn't stop drinking it. "I've been eating all manner of things since I escaped. If I can stomach squirrel, rabbit, frogs, and fish, I can handle chicken."

Remus winced. "That's what you've been eating?"

Sirius shrugged. "And Hagrid's cooking, when he decides to feed a loveable stray that never sticks around."

Remus immediately handed over the bread.

"You know, it's not that bad, rabbit," Sirius said around an extra large bite. "And fish is just fine. Especially after Azkaban gruel." Remus winced again. "And every now and then that kneazle of Hermione's would manage to get me something."

Remus forced a smile. "St. Francis of Assisi would be proud."

It took Sirius a moment to remember who Remus was referring to. His own smile was just as stiff. "Yeah." He chewed his bread and an awkward silence descended over them both.

"So what are you going to do now?" Remus asked. "What are your plans?"

"I don't really have any," Sirius admitted. He sighed. "James was always the planner. James and Peter." He spat the name off his tongue. "And this was a contingency I wasn't prepared for."

"I'm sorry," Remus said.

"It's all right," Sirius said, even though it wasn't. Not quite yet. Azkaban had made anger too much a habit to be easily abandoned now, but Sirius was bright enough to know that alienating Remus would be one of the stupidest ideas ever. Remus was silent, indicating that this wasn't over, but Sirius was suddenly tired. "I guess I should leave England," he said, more to break the silence than anything else. "Maybe I'll go south."

"That sounds nice," Remus said lamely.

Sirius eyed him sharply. "And you? What are you going to do? You must have a cache saved up from teaching at Hogwarts." He clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm not begging for money," he said hastily.

"No," Remus said with a wan smile. "You aren't. I have a little money, but not much. I only taught there for one year."

"One year? The Defense teachers are still on a revolving basis?" Sirius asked incredulously. Remus nodded, and he chuckled. "Well, then. Want to come with me?"

Remus smiled broadly. "I thought you'd never ask."

***

The ended up in Morocco, because it was someplace they'd both always wanted to go and was far away. The sandy colored buildings and noisy bazaars and languages were completely different than anything Sirius had ever known. There was a peace in that, and he savored the difference.

"I'm not sure we'll find a Catholic church for you too easily," Remus said when they surveyed the city.

Sirius ran a hand through his newly washed and cut hair. "I don't want one," he said.

Remus raised his eyebrows, but Sirius shook his head. He couldn't talk about it right now, because the anger and pain and sadness that welled up in him at the mere mention were overwhelming. But of everyone in his life, Remus knew not to press the subject better than anyone would have.

They strayed away from the edges of civilization, making a tent in an unpopulated area near the ocean. Oddly enough, the sound of the waves and the briny scent were soothing, even though that's what had been his backdrop for years. Remus seemed to enjoy it as well.

They'd been there for two weeks when Sirius came out of the tent to see Remus, his face tipped up to the night breeze coming from the ocean, his eyes closed. He sat down beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Remus opened his eyes, looked at him and smiled. Their eyes locked, and much to Sirius's shock, he felt an old electricity run down his spine.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Remus replied back.

There was a lot for them to say, but Sirius found that none of it was coming to his lips. He looked up at the sky. "Different stars than the ones I've seen for the past twelve years."

"Past thirteen, or more than that," Remus said. "We're in a different part of the world now."

"Have you ever been down here?"

"To Morocco?"

"No, Africa in general."

"Oh. Yes."

"When?"

"In 1983. I was still… grieving, I guess, is the best word."

"I see." Sirius could feel Remus's body through their thin robes. It was warm, but skinny. But not nearly as bad as his own. "You still haven't said much about how those years were for you."

Remus sighed heavily. "I know. The thing is, Sirius, they weren't all bad. They were hard and desperate, but there were people and there was life and I laughed and I was happy sometimes. And that all seems like it's rubbing it in your face."

Impulsively, Sirius took Remus's hand. "It's not," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'm glad you had happiness. I only wish you had more."

Remus nodded abstractly. Then, after a long silence, he said, "Sirius? Why don't you want to find a church? I'd think you would."

"I don't." Sirius swallowed hard. "I can't talk about it much."

"I'm willing to listen," Remus said, turning his hand over in Sirius's and entwining their fingers.

"I know. But I can't really say the words."

Remus pressed his lips together and looked back out to the ocean. "I guess that says a lot, right there."

"Yeah. It does."

They sat hand in hand, watching the stars wheel about above them and the waves pound the shore.

***

The sun burned his skin, and although it itched, Sirius reveled in it. As the weeks drifted by, his body began to flesh out again. He began to smile. And he and Remus found the words to tell each other what had happened those past twelve years.

"I do have to tell you," Remus said one afternoon while they lay on blankets in the sand, facing each other over a chess board, "I saw Gabriel."

"Gabriel?" Sirius said, surprised. "Gabriel Graham?"

"Yeah." Remus picked up a piece and twirled it between his fingers. "He's a priest now. I… well, I went to one of his Masses. He's a good speaker," he admitted.

"I'm not surprised." Sirius smiled reminiscently. "Check."

"He heard my Confession."

Sirius hadn't had anything to drink, but he choked anyway. "You're kidding," he said, when he could manage it through the coughing.

Remus laughed. "Yes and no," he said. "I went into one of those little Confessional booth things, but I didn't actually go through the rites or anything. He knew me, of course. But I needed to talk to someone who knew you, but didn't know what you did. Or what I thought you did."

"Yeah?" Sirius was trying to picture Remus in Confession and was failing miserably. "What did he say?"

"A lot of stuff that made sense, actually. He helped me a lot." Remus's eyes were still on the chess piece. "He's a good priest, Sirius."

"I knew he would be."

"You would have been a good one, too."

The sunshine dimmed a bit. "Please don't say that."

"Why not?"

Sirius shook his head. "I'm surprised you went to Gabriel," he said finally. "You never liked him."

"Not for any real reason," Remus admitted.

"Then why not?"

Remus smiled slyly. "You tell me why you don't want to talk about the priesthood, and I'll tell you why I never liked Gabriel." He moved his rook.

Sirius sighed and moved to capture Remus's queen. "Not yet. And checkmate."

***

Sirius had not thought about that Christmas Day in 1980 in thirteen years. Well, not in a good way, anyway. It was one of the first memories the Dementors had taken away, and since then, it was like an open wound, too painful to touch. But with Remus in such close proximity all the time, he had to think about it.

The memories were still strong- he was a little surprised that they were. Not because they weren't powerful, but because most days his mind still felt a little bit jagged and torn. But the smell of Remus, the feel of his skin when they brushed against each other, and the comfort of his presence made it impossible not to remember.

He was thinking about it when Remus found him in his usual spot one night, staring at the sea. The air was warm and humid, and far out he could see the lights of a ship.

"Do you ever wonder," he said as Remus sat down beside him, "what would have happened if I'd said, 'hey, I'm not making any promises, but let's see where this goes?'"

Remus sat back, his hands supporting him. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

"If I'd let it happen… if I hadn't been so determined that seminary was the only life for me… we would have been together. And then there wouldn't have been that distance and awkwardness between us, and I would have been around you more. I wouldn't have thought you were the spy- I would have _known_ better because I couldn't ignore the evidence. And we would have caught Peter, and James and Lily would be alive today."

"That's one way it could have happened," Remus said. "Another way is that one of us would have died first- or both of us. Or that I still would have been out doing work for Dumbledore, spying on the werewolves, and I still wouldn't have been able to tell you and you still would have thought what you thought. Or maybe we could have put it off for a bit, and Peter still would have gotten them killed. Or maybe the Longbottoms would have died first. There are a million things that could have happened, Sirius."

"But if I'd just… if I had…"

Remus shook his head. "Why are you dwelling on that decision, anyway? Why not the Secret Keeper switch, or going after Peter yourself?"

Sirius laughed hollowly. "I guess I need a break from those," he said. "In Azkaban, all I could do was think of ways it could have been different."

"But why you and me?" Remus pressed gently.

Sirius drew a pattern in the sand. He stared at it as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world as he spoke. "Back when I was in seminary, I realized I had feelings for you. I went to talk to Bishop Goodwin, because I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know how to deal with it. And he told me to make sure I was reading the signs God gave me correctly, and maybe He was offering me a different sort of life. That He had a different plan for me rather than the priesthood." Remus was sitting very still, very silent. Sirius couldn't gauge his reaction. "One of the things I keep wondering is if Bishop Goodwin was right. And I went against God's will, and He punished me."

Remus exhaled slowly. "So you still believe in God?" he asked gently.

"Yes." Sirius moved his gaze from the sand to his toes. Even though they were tanned, he could still see his feet as white and skeletal in his mind so clearly that they looked that way to his eyes. "But I don't want to."

"So your problem isn't that you've lost God."

"Fuck, no. I know exactly where He is, but I'm mad as Hell at him." To his horror, Sirius felt his breath began to shake and his hands tremble. "I hate Him, Remus," he whispered, so softly that Remus had to lean in to hear. "I hate Him for what he did to James and Lily, and you, and me."

"God didn't do that to us," Remus said softly, taking Sirius's hands in his. He came around in front of Sirius and knelt in front of him, catching his chin in his hand and tipping Sirius's face up so he had to look at Remus. "He didn't do that. _Peter_ did that. Never lose sight of that. _Peter_ did it."

Sirius nodded, trying to get himself under control. He clung to Remus's hands, gripping them tightly. They were solid, and had just as firm a hold on him. When he could speak again, he cocked his head and asked, "Why are you saying this? All the time I've known you, you never believed in God."

"I still don't," Remus admitted, "although not as devoutly as I used to. I suppose I've moved from atheist to agnostic over the years. But I know _you_, and I know what you believed. Thirteen years ago, when your mind was whole, you would have seen the truth. I want you to still see it now."

Sirius inclined his head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Remus dropped one hand and moved back to sit by Sirius's side. Sirius turned to look at him, and saw Remus right there, watching him. Their eyes met, and he knew it was coming and closed his eyes milliseconds before Remus's lips met his.

The kiss started chaste and gentle. Remus's lips were dry from the sea air, and far more tentative than they'd been all those years ago. But Sirius reached up and touched his face. It was a light touch, no more than a soft brush with his fingertips. But it was enough.

Remus shifted his body so he could pull Sirius close, and pulled his mouth away to ghost kisses over Sirius's face. Forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, eyes… Sirius could only shudder under the tender onslaught. He reached up and wrapped an arm around Remus's shoulders, pulling his down as he leaned back into the sand.

They shed their robes, laughing a little at the awkwardness of trying to get the fabric off and arranged under them to prevent sand showing up exactly where it shouldn't. Then they were naked together under the night sky, the moon silver on their bodies and in their hair. Sirius lay back and pulled Remus over him, his hands tracing Remus's collarbones wonderingly.

Remus's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Not for the first time, Sirius wondered just how much Remus thought about that Christmas Day. But now was not the time to ask; it was the time to explore with small kisses, gentle hands, and deliberate breaths.

Suddenly, Remus opened his eyes. "Sirius," he whispered. "I'm not your consolation."

"What?"

"I'm not your consolation for the life you wanted, and I'm not your salvation from what you've done."

Sirius understood. "No," he said. "No. You're not." He reached up and cupped Remus's cheek. "I'll find my own consolation, and Harry is my salvation. You… you are my grace."

Remus closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against Sirius's hand. When Sirius pulled his hand away, it was wet with Remus's silent tears.

Their lips met again, and Sirius felt his soul lift as his body arched up into Remus's. They began to move together, slowly at first, uncertain of each other's rhythms and desires. Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus's waist and Remus caressed his shoulders, his forearms tight against Sirius's biceps. The friction began to build, and soon Sirius couldn't think about anything, anything except Remus.

He'd never admit that there were tears on his own face when it was over, but there were.

***

Sex doesn't cure everything, and neither does love. But it sure makes the hardships easier to bear.

***

PART THREE

"I hate being stuck in here," Sirius growled, throwing himself on a couch.

"I know you do," Remus said. "But it's best for Harry, I suppose." Although Remus didn't look much like he believed it, either.

But neither of them could convince Dumbledore otherwise. And Dumbledore was so often right… Sirius didn't want to make another mistake. Not when it came to Harry.

The doorbell rang, and the portrait shrieked to life. They both swore and sprinted down the stairs. Remus dealt with his mother, and Sirius answered the door.

"For fuck sake, just come in next time!" he said, yanking the door open.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I would not presume to break etiquette and enter without warning."

"Yeah, well find some other way to warn me then," Sirius said. There were two people standing with Dumbledore. Sirius sighed and dredged up his manners. "I'm sorry," he said, "there's a portrait of my mother that decides to rant and rail about my presence in her precious house when she's disturbed. It's not pleasant."

"S'alright," the younger of the two guests said. She was a young witch with bright pink hair, dragon leather pants and bracelets, and a tight Hobgoblins t-shirt.

Sirius smiled. "Nice shirt."

"Thanks," she said. "It's vintage."

Sirius cringed. Fortunately, at that moment Remus came out. "Hello, Kingsley," he said to the other wizard with Dumbledore. "Sirius, are you going to invite everyone in, or should we just congregate on the doorstep?"

This was not going well at all. "Come on in," Sirius said, pulling himself up. "I apologize about the mess, but Remus and I only got here two nights ago, and apparently the house elf-" he couldn't help the sneer on his face when he said it- "has done nothing for the past decade."

Dumbledore frowned just slightly, but let it pass without comment. "Sirius, you might remember Nymphadora Tonks."

"Just Tonks," the young witch insisted, and Sirius blinked. She stuck her hand out. "Wotcher, Sirius. Nice to see you again."

Sirius stared at her. "Last time I saw you you'd just been potty trained and were demanding a chocolate frog for not pooping on the rug."

"And now I'm an Auror. How about that?" Tonks said with a huge grin. She pulled something out of her pocket. "Chocolate frog?"

Sirius couldn't help it; he laughed. He turned expectantly to the other wizard, the one Remus had identified as Kingsley, and a memory flicked on. "Kingsley Shacklebolt, right? You used to date Lily before she wised up and got together with James."

"That's right." Kingsley extended his hand. "I have to admit, this is a bit awkward."

"Why? You and Lily broke up years ago."

"No," Kingsley laughed. "It's just that, well, I'm the Auror that's been in charge of tracking you down."

For a wild moment, Sirius's heart stopped. Then reason reasserted itself and he smiled. "Well, you found me. But please don't bother with the handcuffs."

Kingsley smiled. "It's just that, well, I know a lot more about you than you know about me."

Sirius glanced back at Remus, slightly panicked. Their eyes met and Remus smiled a tiny bit and shook his head an imperceptible amount. Sirius raised his eyebrows and turned back to Kingsley. "Well, why don't you all come in and have tea or some gracious thing like that, and we'll see what we can do about putting everyone on an even footing, shall we?"

"Excellent idea, Sirius," Dumbledore said. Although his hands didn't move, Sirius had the feeling they were all being herded to the kitchen. "And as we have tea, we can also discuss the arrival of the rest of the Order. They should be here soon."

Sirius thought of the house having people in it, and being in the thick of the action as plans were made for fighting Voldemort. He burst into a broad grin. "Excellent."

***

The Order had changed a lot since Sirius was in it the first time. For one, most of the members he remembered were dead. There was a cheerful thought. He made a face and focused on the fact that there were new members, many of whom he'd never met.

Or thought he hadn't really met, anyway.

The Weasley family arrived on a Tuesday, red-headed and full of life, noise, and laughter. Sirius liked them immediately, and not just because they meant so much to Harry. He'd never been in the midst of a family like this, and he stood back against the kitchen wall and watched the kids fight and banter and laugh with a wistful sort of smile. Molly shooed them all about with a busy, exasperated affection, and Sirius could easily see why Harry loved her.

But when Arthur came in that night, his face hit Sirius like a three hundred pound Quidditch player on a Firebolt at top speed. Sirius exchanged pleasantries as Molly introduced them, and then sank back towards the fireplace, watching from the outside. Remus looked at him questioningly, but Sirius shook his head.

After dinner, he fled to the library, kicking Kreacher out viscously. His hands were shaking as he paced the room with long angry strides, and eventually he had to transform to a dog, because it was just too much. He jumped up onto the sofa and laid his chin on the arm, whimpering to himself.

The door cracked open, and Sirius heard footsteps. He turned, looked, and curled back up, tucking his nose under his paws. Arthur Weasley entered, looking around. He spotted Sirius on the couch and approached, sitting down next to him.

"Well," he said finally, taking off his glasses and polishing them on his robe. "This is a bit awkward. I'd wondered about that when Dumbledore told us where we were staying. If you want us to work out other arrangements-"

Sirius took a deep breath and transformed back. "No," he said hastily, and then smiled wanly at Arthur's flustered expression. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. I also didn't mean to be so rude. I apologize."

Arthur slipped his glasses back up his robe. "It's quite all right. I was a bit startled myself."

Sirius bit his lip, and then let it burst out. "It was you that sent that Bible to me in Azkaban, right?"

Arthur nodded. "It was such an odd request… not what I expected at all. And it seemed genuine. Molly nearly had my head, but…" he chuckled. "I think she's glad of it now."

"Well, thank you," Sirius forced out.

"Did it help?" Arthur asked sympathetically.

Sirius shook his head. "I thought it would, though, so for that I thank you."

Arthur stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, glad I… glad we've finally met," he said. "I'd better go make sure the twins aren't burning down your house."

"If they can figure out how, they can do so with my blessing," Sirius said, and he watched Arthur leave.

***

"Mr. Black?"

Sirius spat out the sip of wine he'd just taken and began to cough. "What the-?" He looked up, and either Fred or George Weasley stood in front of him, grinning ear to ear.

"Thought that would get your attention."

"Don't you _ever_ do that again!" Sirius said, regaining the ability to breathe.

"Sorry." The boy sat down across from him.

Sirius studied him, and then sighed. "All right. I give up. Which one are you?"

"I'm George."

"Where's Fred?"

"We do exist as separate people, you know," George said, a tad crossly.

"Sorry."

"Tell you what- I'll give you a hint. Fred has a cowlick he can't tame- the hair above his left ear either always sticks up or is always shaved short."

"Got it. Well, George, what do you want?"

"Ron tells me your friends at Hogwarts called you Padfoot."

Sirius grinned. "And Harry tells _me_ you're the ones who gave him the Marauder's Map. What can I do for you, young sir?"

"Oddly enough, not anything like you'd think. I actually have a question about my summer homework."

Sirius grinned. "To hear your mum tell it, you don't do the stuff."

"Yeah, well don't tell her, all right? It will spoil my reputation. But Professor Lupin told me that you were really good at, well, everything, and I had some questions about this Potions stuff."

"Interesting class to pay attention in," Sirius said, pulling the books George put on the table towards him.

"Yeah, well, it serves our purposes," George said with an evil grin. "I'm having some trouble with this one. See, the variation we want to do isn't _quite_ described in the book. And since end result is only supposed to give you a nosebleed, not kill you, well… we want to be sure we know what we're doing before we test it."

"Makes sense." Sirius looked at George's notes, and as he read, his eyebrows raised. "Impressive," he said. "Well, here's the first thing you need to look at." Sirius pointed to a potion. "It's the camellia extract that makes it so potent, especially when combined with this much marjoram. Which, incidentally, is growing in a garden out back, not that I told you that if your mother asks."

"But what about the shrivelfig?" George asked. "We were thinking that if we changed the cut of it from shreds to a mince…"

"Oh, I see. Hmmm. Well, you could…."

They spent a good hour going over the potion. Sirius was frankly impressed, not only with the creativity of the twins but their intelligence. Finally, they reached an alternative potion that Sirius agreed _should_ be safe to try, but he also agreed to stand by in case medical help was needed fast.

"Thanks a lot," George said, sitting back and closing the book. "Fred and I are really hoping to have these done by the beginning of the school year."

"These?" Sirius grinned. "I thought this was homework."

"Applied Potions, shall we say?" George said.

"What's it really for?" Sirius asked, reaching for the bottle of wine and summoning another glass. He refilled his own and poured a glass for George. "Keep in mind that I'm asking as a fellow troublemaker, not as a responsible adult."

George considered him, and then smiled. "Fred and I have this excellent idea," he said. "This line of trick sweets. They'd be double ended. When you eat the first part, you look sick enough to leave class, but when you eat the second part, whatever ailment you've given yourself is cured."

Sirius whistled between his teeth. "I would have loved some of those in school," he said.

"That's what we're hoping." George got serious. "Once we've perfected and tested them, we'd like to start selling them. Get a customer base going."

"Customer base?"

"Fred and I are going to open a joke shop once we leave Hogwarts," George said. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. We've got a lot of stuff made already, and Harry gave us his Triwizard winnings as an investment." George looked Sirius square in the eye. "We intend to see that he triples it, at least."

"You'll have some tough competition with Zonko's."

"We know. But we think we can do it."

Sirius looked at George's books again and nodded. "I'd believe it," he said and sipped his wine.

"What did you want to do?" George asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Before you went to Azkaban. What were you going to do? Like, for a career?"

Sirius fingered his goblet. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the honest interest in George's face, he didn't know. But he heard himself saying, "Well, I'm Catholic."

"Really?" If George was surprised by the seemingly irrelevance of the statement, he didn't show it. "You don't look it. I'd think you'd have a- what do you call them- roses?"

That made Sirius laugh. "Rosary. And I'm sure there is one upstairs in my room. But I never carried it around with me- I'm a Catholic, not a vampire hunter." He took a long sip of wine. "Anyway, I used to be very devout. And, well…" he looked out the window and put his feet up on the chair in front of him, slouching in a deliberate effort to look casual. "I was going to be a priest." He waited for George to laugh, but he didn't. "I know it sounds ludicrous-"

"Not really. The thing about having a reputation is that people can forget you can be anything else."

"Yeah. That's pretty much what I mean, I guess. Anyway, I…" he shook his head. "Very few people in the Order know that about me," he said slowly. "Just Remus, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and I'm guessing Kingsley if he did that much research on me when he was tracking me down. I'd appreciate it if you kept it quiet."

"Harry doesn't know?"

"No."

"Not to be pushy, but why not? It's not like it's something to be ashamed of."

Sirius chewed his lip. "I'm not ashamed of it," he said finally. "But I can't talk about it. When I think about it, it's like…" he shook his head. "I can't talk about it," he finished lamely.

"Oh. Well." George finished his wine. "Listen, would you mind if I asked you any other questions I have? Although I know you don't mind us blowing up the house, Fred and I would prefer to survive our experiments."

"Any time." Sirius smiled as George stood up and left, but his smile faded once he was alone again.

He realized he was going to have to face this sometime.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm impressed by some of these vintages," Kingsley said as he picked up another bottle. "You know, you could sell these and bring yourself several hundred Galleons."

"Waste of good wine," Sirius said. "Besides, I have money. I just can't get out to do anything with it, or give it to people who need it."

Kingsley smiled sympathetically, but offered no attempts at comfort. Sirius was relieved. As much as he liked Molly, she would have tried to give him some platitude about how it would all work out eventually. Which would be fine, if Sirius believed it. He picked up a bottle and dusted it off, and then dropped it as some coating made his hands begin to burn. The glass shattered, spraying red wine on their robes, and Sirius bit his lips in pain.

Kingsley touched his wand to Sirius's palms, and the blistered skin began to cool, but not heal. "I'm guessing that was an especially good one, right?"

"My father was always very particular about who touched his wine collection," Sirius said. "I don't know why I didn't check to see if any of these spells were still active."

"Your parents were a piece of work," Kingsley observed. He took Sirius's hand in his and turned it over. "I think we're going to need to put a Cooling Compress on your palms, too."

Sirius sighed. "You're probably right. Come on."

Their footsteps resounded through the empty house. Sirius looked around from habit, but there was no one anywhere. The children were out with Molly at Diagon Alley, Arthur was at work, Remus was with the werewolves, and the rest of the Order was off at jobs or fighting evil or being a part of the world. As they walked by, he could hear his mother's portrait muttering from under the curtains. He made a face.

Kingsley located the first aid supplies Molly had brought in and pulled out a packet. He tapped it with his wand and ice formed on it, and he handed it to Sirius. "Keep that on your palms," he said. "And sit down. Burns that severe can cause shock."

"Thanks," Sirius said. "I'm going to be kicking myself over this one for days."

Kingsley pilfered two pieces of an apple tart that Molly had made and two heaping scoops of ice cream and sat down across from Sirius. "I think your parents and mine would have liked each other."

"Yeah? Your parents were close-minded evil bigots as well?"

"They weren't Dark Wizards, if that's what you mean," Kingsley said, shoveling up a bite and chewing it rather inelegantly. "But they weren't exactly fit to have children. Especially my mother."

"Oh." Sirius's mouth twisted into an ugly smile. "I see."

"One of the things that intrigued me when I first took your case was the fact you ran away when you were sixteen. I did, too."

"Really?" Sirius regarded him with renewed interest. "Where did you go?"

"Hogwarts. Didn't really have a lot of other places to go, to be honest. I only had one more year left, and Dumbledore allowed me to stay there for the summer."

"Lily never mentioned."

"Lily never knew. I left long after she and I broke up." Kingsley chewed reflectively, his eyes focused on something far away. "Anyway. May I ask you an odd sort of question?"

"You can ask," Sirius said with a shrug. His hands were much better, so he kept one on the compress and picked up his fork with the other. "I can't guarantee an answer."

"Did you ever forgive your parents?"

"No. I can't. I tried to, but I can't." Sirius sighed. "It caused me a great deal of conflict at the time. And a great deal of heartache."

"I know."

Sirius smiled sadly. "You do, and you don't," he said. "You said you know a lot about me. Did you know that was the reason I wasn't taken on at St. John's right after Hogwarts?"

"No."

"It is. I thought about it some in the years after I left, before Azkaban. And intellectually, I understand."

"Violation of the Second Commandment, right? Honor thy father and thy mother?"

"Well, yes, but that's not exactly why. It wasn't because of a sin."

"I don't quite understand," Kingsley admitted.

"Well, priests aren't expected to be perfect," Sirius said, slipping into an academic tone of voice. "But my failure to forgive my parents does indicate a lack of faith. See, I don't think any human being could forgive that kind of betrayal on their own. They would have to have God's help to do so. And the first step to that sort of forgiveness would be to trust in God to help you forgive and honor them, completely. If you hold back, worried that you're going to be hurt again, it's a sign that you aren't really able to trust God to help you. That you still want the control, that you still need the power. And I couldn't do that. I couldn't trust God that much. And I didn't want to forgive them."

Kingsley nodded. "I guess. It seems an impossible task."

"Tell me about it. And if I hadn't been looking to be a priest, perhaps it wouldn't have stood in my way. It wasn't the anger or the sin that gave them reservation- it was the evidence that I could not put my faith in God the way a priest is meant to."

"But if a person could have that faith?" Kingsley asked. "What would happen next?"

"Like I said, they'd have to be willing to forgive their parents. And the rest…" Sirius smiled bitterly. "I guess it would be a miracle."

"One of God's specialties."

"I don't know. Haven't seen a miracle in a long time," Sirius said sourly.

Kingsley was silent for a while. Finally, he asked, "Do you want to?"

"Want to what? Forgive my parents?"

"No. See a miracle."

"You make it sound like a magic trick," Sirius grumbled.

"Well, if you ever do, let me know." Kingsley finished the last of his pie. "We should finish getting the wine."

"Right."

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

Kingsley cocked his head. "Forgiveness. What does that _mean_, exactly? That you'd go back and do it all the same?"

"Merlin, no!" Sirius said, drawing back in disgust. "Absolutely not! Besides, the Bible says _honor thy mother and thy father_, not _be unto them a doormat._ Forgiveness- real forgiveness- is when you have every reason to be mad at someone, even to hate them, and yet you can genuinely wish them well. You don't have to want to be around them anymore, but you genuinely wish them well."

Kingsley nodded at some private thought. "Thank you. You know, I know it's not worth much after all you've been through, but you would have made a good priest."

Sirius's face hardened. "Maybe once. But most definitely not any more."

***

When Sirius realized that wearing Muggle clothing in front of his mother's portrait was the high point of his day, he decided it was time to head upstairs. But once he got there, he didn't feel like undressing and going to bed, either. He shucked off his shoes, grabbed a book, and flopped down on the huge four poster bed with a well-worn paperback.

To his surprise, the door opened and Remus came in. Sirius flipped over onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows. "Hey. I didn't realize you were coming back tonight."

"I would have sent word," Remus said heavily, "but it really wasn't possible."

Sirius shrugged. "'Sall right."

"I know you'll kill me for saying this, but it's good to be back," Remus said, stretching as he took off his robe. He was wearing a shirt and sweater and trous underneath, and Sirius wondered what he'd been doing in the Muggle world that had been busy and dangerous enough to warrant not contacting him. But he didn't want to start the first time he'd seen Remus in three weeks off with a fight.

"I'd kill you if you didn't say it, too," he pointed out. "You can't win."

Remus laughed. "I suppose. Your hair is really getting long again, by the way." He sat down on a stool next to the bed and began taking off his shoes.

"I'll cut it some day," Sirius said dismissively.

"I saw Kingsley Shacklebolt leaving as I came in," Remus continued. "He's a nice enough bloke, but I still don't know what Lily saw in him."

"Really?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Good-looking, athletic, smart, brave, confident?"

Remus looked at him skeptically. "You sure you've never had a crush on him?"

"No," Sirius admitted honestly. Then he grinned wickedly. But they say once you have black you can never go back."

Remus's brows started down in his _that's not funny I'm a prefect_ expression, but another thought struck him and he swatted at Sirius. "What an ego."

"Huh?"

"Black? Your last name?"

"Oh." Sirius considered. "Well, is it true?"

"Maybe not for Lily," Remus allowed. "She married James, and you don't get much pastier than James Potter in the winter. But for me… yeah. It's true."

Sirius smiled and reached out to take Remus's hand. Remus squeezed his in return.

"So what was Kingsley doing, anyway?" Sirius asked.

"Said something about meeting his father for coffee." Sirius sat very still. "What?" Remus asked, his face full of concern.

"It's just… we've been talking over the past few weeks and it would be like _me_ going to meet my father for coffee. Well, maybe not quite that bad, but close."

"Oh. Wow, then." Remus sighed. He laced his fingers together and stared at them. "I also saw Dumbledore."

"Oh? What did the old coot- and I say that with affection-"

"Right."

"-want now?"

Remus looked up. "He wants us to get Harry tomorrow."

The world brightened considerably. "Harry?" Sirius said with a huge smile, sliding off the bed in his excitement. "Finally! It's about time! With everything that's going on, it really is best he's here. He needs to know-"

"Well, that's one of the roadblocks," Remus sighed. "Dumbledore doesn't want him knowing too much."

"Why the hell not?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "He's not seventeen. He's still a _child_ who should be unburdened by all this."

"Tell _that_ to Voldemort."

"No kidding. But the other thing… Dumbledore doesn't want you to go get him. He's afraid the risk will be too high."

Sirius waved that aside. As disappointing as it was, he'd been expecting it. He leaned his forearm against the post on the bed and looked at Remus, who had a worried expression. "But back to the not telling him issue. The prophecy that we're guarding is about _him._ Isn't not telling him criminal neglect?"

"Sirius, you know I agree with you," Remus said tiredly. "But Dumbledore refuses to see it our way."

"It's too risky. Not communicating is what fucked us up last time."

"He refuses to see it as the same thing, and he just won't change his mind, not matter what you or I say." Remus looked tired and worried.

Sirius crossed his arms and stood back resignedly. "Stupid Dumbledork."

Remus laughed. "Sirius, please don't say that around me. One day, I'll repeat it to his face."

"Oh yeah?" Sirius grinned evilly. "Dumbledork. Dumbledork. Dumble- AHH!"

He was cut off by Remus jumping up and smacking him playfully. He managed to grab Sirius's wrists and pin him against the wall, and Sirius was suddenly very aware just how long it they'd been apart. He pushed off, pinned Remus against the wall, and kissed him deeply. Remus responded, his hands moving from the wall to the front of Sirius's jeans, hastily unfastening them.

It wasn't new to kiss Remus any more. It was something expected and comfortable, but it still thrilled Sirius to the core. They knew each other's signals now, and each other's short hand. Soon their clothes were off and Remus's legs were wrapped around his waist, his back against the wall as Sirius pushed into him.

It was the most awkward, painful, athletic position ever, but somehow, it was incredible at the same time.

***

Seeing Harry again was wonderful. Sirius felt lighter than he had since he'd moved into this wretched place where dusty memories lurked in every corner.

And yet, surprisingly, Sirius found it hard to talk about himself. Not that it mattered- Harry was so caught up with his own concerns that he didn't notice his godfather's awkwardness. Sirius wondered if he'd been so… so egocentric as a teenager, and thought he probably had. It sort of went with the territory.

But still, he often felt like he was watching Harry from a distance, not really a part of his life. It only increased the sense of distance he was feeling from everyone; the isolation and the loneliness. He even envied Harry's close friendship with Ron, because in so many ways it reminded him of himself and James.

Some days he felt like a ghost, roaming the halls with no purpose. He had a feeling that once Harry returned to Hogwarts (as long as the Ministry didn't expel him), it would only get worse.

***

"Podmore and Diggle can take care of that," Arthur said, folding the plans over. "But I think that Tonks and Remus- if you're willing- can try to talk to Martha Cook. She's a small columnist at The Daily Prophet, but she seems like she's frustrated with the current situation and might be willing to listen, and even an unpopular columnist willing to run something will help."

"All right," Remus said, and looked over at Sirius. "You'll help me prepare the arguments for her, right?"

"Sure," Sirius said, trying not to think that Remus was throwing him a bone. He tried to school his mind back to the problem at hand. "Do you think the Prophet will let her run anything she might write? Or should we try finding another forum?"

"It's a good question," Arthur sighed heavily, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I think- oh, hello Kingsley," he said, as Kingsley fell out of the fireplace. "Everything all right?"

Kingsley sighed heavily. "Not particularly, but in no new way. Scrimgeour is starting to stick his nose into everything."

"That's bad?" Remus asked. "He always struck me as someone who might be willing to listen."

Kingsley shook his head. "Willing to listen, perhaps. Willing to do anything without making it harder for us? Doubtful."

"Well, pull up a chair and have a glass of wine," Sirius said, summoning one for him. "We're just planning the takeover of the media world."

They worked for another hour, until the explosion from the basement shook the kitchen. Kingsley looked surprised, but Sirius wearily brushed the plaster from the table, and Remus steadied the wine bottle. Arthur didn't even look up.

"Does that happen often?" Kingsley asked, undoubtedly remembering the wine cellar.

"When Fred and George are around, anything can happen," Arthur said, and then sat back and stretched. "I'm not sure there's much more we can do tonight." He picked up his glass. "Molly will be sending the kids to bed soon, too."

Kingsley sat back as well. "Sirius, I've been meaning to thank you," he said.

Sirius blinked. "Thank me?" Then he remembered what Remus had said a few nights ago. "Oh, no. No. Please don't say that I changed your…" the others looked at him as he trailed off, horrified.

Kingsley laughed, however. "Sirius, don't worry. I was mostly there on my own. But something you said just clicked. I really meant it when I said you'd be a good-" he cut off and looked at Arthur, who was watching them with a bemused expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"I can leave the room if you like," Arthur suggested.

"No," Sirius said, and then shook himself. "Oh, hell. The word Kingsley was going to say was 'priest.'"

"Priest?" Arthur considered that, eyes wide. "Well, that explains a lot. When this is all over, will you go back to it?"

"No," Sirius said shortly.

Kingsley templed his fingers and looked at him thoughtfully. "I had a thought," he said slowly.

"Why do I get the feeling this is trouble?" Sirius sighed.

"Voldemort and Dumbledore don't exactly account for Sunday morning services," Kingsley said. "It might be nice to form some sort of worship circle."

Sirius stared at him with horror, but Arthur was looking at Kingsley with interest. "You know, it's not a bad idea."

"No," Sirius said flatly.

Remus tried to intervene. "Sirius, you wouldn't have to-"

"No."

"But if you wanted to-" Kingsley began, and Sirius snapped.

"Don't you get it? Don't you all understand? I can't go back! I can not go back to God!"

"Why?" Arthur asked.

"Because I denied God! It would be one thing to not believe anymore, but I can't stop believing! And I hate Him!" Sirius said, pushing his chair back. "If the Catholic Church knew the things I said, I could be excommunicated. God doesn't want me anymore- not after everything I've done and everything I am! A blasphemous, heretical homosexual has no place in the Church, all right? He can't forgive me! He won't forgive me!"

He had risen to his feet, but as the words snapped out of him it left him shaking so hard that Remus had to gently guide him to his seat. A heavy silence stretched over the four of them, and Sirius suddenly realized he wanted nothing more than to cry. To put his head down and cry, and for someone to tell him it would all be okay, that he would be forgiven. But that couldn't happen.

Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. "Maybe not a worship, then. But what about something a step removed?"

Kingsley picked up on the thought. "If it was more academic… when we were talking, you told me about faith in a very matter-of-fact manner. Sirius, I'm not asking this for your sake." He suddenly looked very vulnerable, and Sirius finally cottoned on that Kingsley was actually very religious himself. "I'm asking for mine."

"I'd go as well," Arthur said.

"Me, too," Remus said softly. Sirius looked at him, surprised, and Remus smiled grimly. "I know you can't do this alone, but you can do it, Sirius."

"All right," Sirius said. "But don't expect me to be happy about it."

***

"He was interested in you," Remus said later that night, when they lay together in bed.

Sirius picked his head up off Remus's shoulder. "What?"

"I told you if you'd tell me why you didn't want to go back to the priesthood, I'd tell you why I never liked Gabriel," Remus said. "He was interested in you, and you in him. I could tell. And I was insanely jealous."

"Jealous?" Sirius said, looking down at Remus.

Remus shrugged. "It's why I hated him, why I never slept with anyone until after you went to Azkaban, why I slept with you that Christmas. I loved you. I knew I couldn't have you, but I loved you anyway. And so I hated him." He looked at the shocked expression on Sirius's face. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you really hadn't figured it out!"

"You loved me?"

"Yes, you goof."

"You loved me before Azkaban."

Remus's face darkened. "Truth be told, Sirius, I never fully stopped. I wanted to, but I couldn't. No matter what, I've always loved you. And I'm pretty sure I always will."

The words hit something deep within him, and he huddled back against Remus. To be loved like that… by someone he loved in return….

Sirius wept.

***

As agreed, they met two days later in the library. Kingsley looked eager, Arthur looked interested, and Remus looked a little uncomfortable. Sirius hadn't told anyone else about it, and he was fairly sure that none of the others had, either. Which was why he was so surprised when the door opened and George Weasley strolled on in.

"Top of the morning to you all," he said, sitting down.

"George," Arthur began. "This is a… a different sort of discussion. We-"

"I know," George said, brandishing a Bible and a cocky grin. "I kind of overheard you."

"I thought your mother confiscated all of the Extendable Ears," Arthur said.

Sirius hid his smile behind his hand. Not only because of George's attitude, but because he'd helped some of the devices (they really were quite brilliant) survive the purge.

"Dad," George said patiently, "most parents don't chase their kids off from a Bible study group."

"As long as you're going to take it seriously."

"I take it your family doesn't often attend services, Arthur?" Kingsley asked.

"Well, no. I used to, and Molly wanted the kids brought up in the Church, but it never really happened. When you have seven little ones, sleeping in on Sunday becomes a lot more attractive. Plus, we could never agree on which church. My family is Anglican, Molly's is Catholic."

"Well, that explains a lot," George said.

"George," Sirius warned, although he'd been thinking the exact same thing himself.

"What? I'm serious," George said. "I always wondered why we never went."

Arthur narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Why didn't you ask?"

"Don't know. It just seems like an odd thing to ask."

"Funny, isn't it?" Kingsley asked, "how people don't talk about faith? I didn't mention this to anyone, either."

Remus's foot aligned with Sirius's, and he could hear the message loud and clear. "When I began my training at St. John's," he began, the words sounding rusty in his ears, "I didn't tell James or Remus or… or anyone. And it was how I planned on spending my life. Opening yourself up to ridicule is one of the hardest things religion can ask."

"You think that's the hardest?" Kingsley asked, leaning forward. "Even harder than forgiveness or faith?"

"I do," said Sirius, and they were off and running.

***

"But look," Remus said, "I just don't understand. If this was a research journal, we'd never be asked to take something on faith. There would have to be empirical proof. I can understand saying there might be a God. But how can you believe in one without proof?"

"Life isn't a journal," Kingsley argued fervently. "We accept things without solid proof all the time. Example: where's Molly right now?"

"Out shopping."

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes! Maybe I can't get up right this second and go find her, because that would be incredibly rude, but if we searched the markets, she'd be there. We would find her. She'd probably be annoyed as all hell at us, but we can prove that she's out shopping."

"How about the existence of the thestrals, before you could see them?" Arthur asked.

"Bad example," Sirius muttered. "He could always see them."

"No see ems? Or atoms?" George tried. "Something so tiny it's impossible to see them with the eye, but we can deduce their presence in other ways?"

"It's still different. You can find solid proof," Remus insisted.

"I've got one," Sirius said, leaning in. "Did you love James ad Lily?"

"What?" Remus asked, drawing back.

"Did you love James and Lily?"

"You know I did," Remus said, his face serious.

"Prove it," Sirius replied.

Remus opened his mouth, and then closed it. He twisted his fingers in his robes, and began, "Well, I… no. You… wait. I…" He looked startled. "I guess I can't."

"But we all know you did," Sirius said. "Some things just don't need proof."

***

"I'm sorry," Sirius said after George, Arthur, and Kingsley had left the library.

"What for?" Remus asked.

"Putting you on the spot like that, with the faith argument."

"No. It's… it's all right." Remus pulled up a smile. "It was a good argument."

"Thanks. I'm afraid I can't claim credit though. It's from a Muggle book."

"Where'd you get a Muggle book?" Remus asked.

"Hermione made a trip to the library for me. I've read everything in this place."

"Let me guess," Remus said with a smile. "You sat in front of your mother and read that Muggle filth out loud to her."

"No, but I'll do that with the next one. Thanks for the idea!" Sirius chuckled, and the sobered. "But seriously, Moony. I know why you're coming to this group, and I really appreciate it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Remus smiled, but there was something odd and closed about his smile. But all he'd say was, "I'm a big boy, Sirius. I knew what I was getting into, and I can take care of myself."

***

To Sirius's surprise, the discussion groups weren't pure torture. As long as he approached them as academic exercises, they were actually quite interesting. He suspected Remus came in the same mind frame, always willing to play the devil's advocate.

Their little group didn't grow, but that was fine with Sirius. In fact, the only person he even tried mentioning it to was Harry. It was a fine summer night, and they both managed to escape outside for a little bit, into the back courtyard.

"There used to be an apple tree there," Sirius told Harry as they sat on the back steps. "The apples didn't taste very good, but it was perfect for climbing down."

"What happened to it?" Harry asked.

"My father," Sirius spat. "He cut it down after he caught me climbing down it to go play with the Muggle kids."

Harry made a sympathetic face. "I think I'm glad I never met your parents."

"You are. I'm glad you never did, either. There isn't a member of my family you would have liked."

Harry grinned. "Especially since there isn't a member of your family who wouldn't have liked me?"

"Too right," Sirius said. "I hope it gave my dear old mother a heart attack when she heard I was your godfather." Harry laughed, and Sirius looked up in the sky. "About that… I mean, being your godfather."

"What?"

"Well, your mum would kill me if I never asked you this, but did Petunia ever take you to church?"

Harry shrugged. "When I was little, we'd go. But Dudley hated Sunday school. It meant getting up early. So we stopped going. I think the teacher was rather happy, truthfully."

"Do you want to go?" Sirius asked, still looking up at the sky and studiously avoiding Harry's eyes. "Because once this is over, I could take you."

"Nah," Harry said with a shrug. "Not really. Not unless you think my mum would have wanted me to go."

The words brought sharp tears to Sirius's eyes, but he didn't want Harry to see them. He suddenly had an image of Lily up in Heaven, complete with halo, wings, and harp, hexing him because he wasn't pushing her son harder on the issue. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Only if you wanted to, Harry. Besides, I think your mum would strike me down with a lightning bolt if I took you to my church." He seized on that thought eagerly.

"Better not risk her wrath then," Harry agreed.

***

"I should have pushed him," Sirius groaned to Remus later that night. "Lily wouldn't care if I took Harry to a Catholic church. It was all a joke between us, anyway. I mean, she wouldn't have wanted him _raised_ Catholic overall, but if it was a choice between that and her sister…."

"Why didn't you push him?" Remus asked, picking at the rug on the bed.

Sirius sighed heavily. "I don't want to lose him. And evangelical preaching has a tendency to drive people away, not bring them closer to God."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're on better terms with God these days."

Sirius shrugged. "Not really. But I can admit that maybe He's not an all out bastard to everyone. Just to me and to you."

Remus gave Sirius as sad smile. "We are together, you know. That's something."

"Yeah, but hat's because of us, not Him." Sirius yawned and turned back the covers. "You ready for me to get the light?"

"Yeah. Good night, Sirius. I love you."

"I love you, too."

***

"That should do it," Sirius said, wrapping the last Nosebleed Nougat. "If you guys decide this is the right formulation, let me know. I can help you brew up some more. It's not like I've got anything better to do."

"Thanks, mate," Fred said gratefully, neatly piling the sweets into a box. "You've really been a huge help."

Sirius smirked, lazing back in the chair and watching the twins. "Who knows. Maybe after all this is over, you two can give me a job."

"Yeah! Talk about marketing," Fred said. "Get your Skiving Snackboxes, spelled by accused mass murderer Sirius Black!" All three of them laughed. "I can't decide if people would be convinced you poisoned them or come running for the novelty."

"I think we're on to something big," George said.

Fred hefted up the box. "I'll take these upstairs. You coming, George?"

"I'll be there in a minute."

"Right." Fred Apparated away.

"I'm not entirely joking," Sirius said. "After this is all over," he waved his hands vaguely, "or at least once we've convinced Fudge I'm innocent, I'd really like to talk investment possibilities."

George hesitated. "Sirius, I don't know…"

"Why not?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows. "I've seen your products and I read your prospectus. I know you and Fred, and you're both bright, reliable, honest men. I fully expect I'll make a profit on this endeavor, and damn it, I'd like something in my life to turn out like I expect. To the causal businessman, you might be young and unproven, but to me, you two are a safe bet."

"But what about your life?" George asked. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Sirius admitted. "And don't even suggest seminary," he warned as George opened his mouth. George closed it sheepishly. But nothing would keep George Weasley silent for long.

"You do seem to be getting better."

"Getting better?" Sirius asked, amused.

"Yeah, well, when we started a couple months ago, you were always angry at the beginning of each discussion. But now, you come in a lot less angry. And you're always the one with the interpretation."

"Really," Sirius drawled.

George shrugged. "Just telling you what I see."

***

"Am I getting better?" Sirius asked Remus later that night.

He expected Remus to question what he meant. But Remus just nodded.

"Yes," he said. "You are."

That was an answer that took him totally off guard.

***

The kids left the next morning. Sirius gleefully snuck along, not worrying in the least about getting caught. Just being out of the house and in the sunshine again… he suddenly had an intense longing to be back in Morocco.

The longing only increased after they returned, and Remus had to leave. Even knowing that Remus was going to that maniac Fenrir Greyback couldn't stifle Sirius's envy as Remus stepped out of the house and into the early autumn sunshine. A gust of wind swept a flurry of leaves behind him, and it seemed like an exclamation point on his departure.

And to add insult to injury, the Weasleys were leaving the next morning.

"We'll be back for Order meetings," Molly said anxiously. "And we'll make sure you have whatever you need."

"I know," Sirius said glumly. "I'll be fine, Molly. Really. Prisons are generally pretty well guarded."

"Don't talk like that," Molly pleaded.

"Sorry." Sirius picked up a napkin and twirled it around her fingers.

"I'd better go finish packing," Molly said, and she hurried out the door.

"She's still walking on eggshells around me," Sirius said. "Since the night Harry came. Tell her to stop it."

"She will," Arthur said. "She just needs this visit to end. Even if we were to come back next week, she'd be okay."

"I see," Sirius said, even though he didn't.

"She's a little wary of our Bible group, too," Arthur continued.

Sirius sat up straight. "You _told_ her?"

Arthur regarded him with amusement. "First of all, she's my wife. Second of all, it's a _Bible group_, not a hard core porn ring. Of course I told her. Didn't we go over this the first time we met?"

"Yeah, well." Sirius crossed his arms. "What did she say?"

"She was surprised. But I actually really wanted to say thank you." Sirius shrugged and started to say it was nothing, but Arthur held up a hand. "It's not what you think. It's just… this group. It was the first time George and I have shared anything like this. We don't talk about it much, but it's been good."

"I'm glad," Sirius said. "But it wasn't me that did that. It was the two of you."

"Maybe. But thank you anyway."

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and left to help his wife, and Sirius sat on in the kitchen, staring into the fire.

***

Sirius lay in bed that night, listening the creak of the empty house. It wasn't the first night he'd spent here alone, but it was the first night since the Weasleys had come. The lack of their life and fire and laughter only served to emphasize how quiet and grim his childhood home really was.

He shuddered and turned over, embracing Remus's pillow. The faint smell of Remus's shampoo still lingered, and he pulled the pillow closer to him. It wasn't as if Remus was there, of course, but it was a reminder- a reminder he desperately needed.

"Help me get through this," he whispered out loud. "And please, keep him safe." He closed his eyes.

He didn't think of it that way, but it was the first time he'd prayed since he left Azkaban.

***

The days ticked by. They were solitary, useless days broken only by short visits from Remus and the occasional communication with Harry, and the all-too-infrequent appearance of Order members, most of whom felt like strangers. Sirius hated it.

His temper grew short and he grew restless, spending more time with Buckbeak and snapping at Kreacher, because he needed someplace to find some sort of comfort and to vent his misery. Neither helped.

Finally, out of sheer desperation, he picked up his Bible again.

He would swear it didn't help. But he read it from cover to cover.

***

Every now and then, members of the Order would pop by. They would meet, discuss plans, and for a shining hour or two, Sirius would almost feel alive.

But then he would remember he couldn't help in any of those plans. He'd remember Remus was in constant danger, Harry was being watched, and it felt like there was no real hope anywhere. When the Order left, reality crashed on him hard.

"How are you doing, Sirius?" Kingsley asked him one night.

Sirius stared at him. Not because the question was so out of the ordinary, but because Kingsley was one of the few people that saw him long enough to ask it and really seemed to care.

"I don't know," Sirius said. "All right, I guess."

Kingsley sighed. "You know," he said eventually, "I miss our group."

"Yeah, me too." A long ago thought struck him. "You know, I could really use that miracle you one said you could show me."

"Really?" Kingsley looked interested.

"What, you have one?" Sirius laughed. "I always figured you were joking."

"No, I have one. Like I said, I did my research on you."

"Oh."

"Do you want it?" Kingsley prompted.

"Well, I…"

Kingsley dug in his pockets and took out a piece of paper and handed it to Sirius. Sirius looked at him, baffled. "You carry it around with you?"

"I didn't want to miss the chance."

"Whatever." But he didn't turn the paper over.

Kingsley smiled. "Look at it when I'm gone. Take care, Sirius. I'll see you soon."

Sirius waited until he was gone and he was alone in the oppressing darkness again, and then turned it over.

It was a picture of him and Remus, taken this past summer. They were sitting together on the couch, pulling faces at the camera. They looked relaxed, comfortable, and happy, and Sirius could see that his own skin was still slightly sunburned from the time they'd spent at Remus's cottage.

Underneath the picture, in bold script, Kingsley had written, "He believed you. He forgives you. And he loves you."

Sirius's legs crumpled beneath him, and his eyes welled with tears that didn't fall. He sank to the dusty carpet, clutching at the picture and its message.

_He believed you. He forgives you. And he loves you._

The words applied to Remus. The words could also mean Harry. And Sirius knew that Kingsley meant them to imply God.

Miracles, indeed.

***

Sirius was eating a late meal by the light of a candle when it happened. "Sirius," Phineas Nigellus sing-songed.

Sirius looked up irritably. "What?" he snapped at the portrait.

"You have company coming."

Sirius jerked himself to attention. Fortunately, he was still clothed, but that was about the best he could say. He hadn't bothered to shave, his hair was a mess, his clothes were wrinkled, and there was a pile of dishes on the table. "Tell them to go away," he groaned.

But Phineas almost looked concerned. "Weasley's been injured," he sniffed.

That got Sirius's attention. "Which one?"

"Arthur, I believe."

"Shit." Sirius flew off the couch. "Are they bringing him here?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Phineas complained. "All I know is Dumbledore wants those rambunctious children _here_ again before That Woman interferes. As if this house needs the noise. Why, when I was Headmaster, children knew how to behave. I never would have tolerated-" But Sirius didn't listen. Instead, he jumped to his feet and ran down to the kitchen basement, just in time to see the Weasleys and Harry appear via Portkey.

Kreacher was there as well, spouting his usual venom. "Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father's dying…?"

The words cut across his nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. "OUT!" he thundered at Kreacher, taking pleasure at seeing the miserable thing cower. But there was no time for that. "What's going on?" he asked, taking Ginny's hand and helping her to her feet. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured-"

"Ask Harry," said Fred.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself."

They all looked at Harry. Sirius, whose heart was already pounding in fear for Arthur, thought for a moment it was going to give out. But while Harry looked shaken and scared, he also looked whole.

"It was… I had a… a kind of vision…" Harry began. "There was a snake. And he was moving through metal bars and then across stone, and down a corridor. And then he attacked a man sitting in a chair- I mean, he just reared back and attacked. And the man did try to defend himself, but the snake was too quick. Then I woke up and realized it was Mr. Weasley."

Sirius listened to the whole thing with concern. It sounded crazy, yes, but he'd seen Harry in enough stressful situations to trust his judgment. And Arthur was guarding the prophecy tonight, which matched Harry's description perfectly. Harry meant this.

Fred startled him out of his thoughts. "Is Mum here?"

"She probably doesn't even know what happened yet," Sirius admitted. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now." _Come on, Arthur_, he thought silently. _You'd better pull through this. I don't want to be telling your kids you're dead._

"We've got to get to St. Mungo's," Ginny said. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything-"

"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!" The words ripped out of Sirius, much to his surprise. But they made sense.

"'Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want," Fred insisted. "He's our dad!"

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?" Sirius demanded.

"What does that matter?" George demanded, and it wasn't so much the words but the source that pushed Sirius's temper.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away! Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

He couldn't look at Harry, or Ginny, or Ron, or even Fred. Only George, whom he wanted to shout, "You're an adult, damn it!" But some little voice- a little voice he hadn't heard in a long time- whispered a reminder that George _wasn't_ an adult. He told it to shut the fuck up.

Ginny tried anyway. "Somebody else could have told us… We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry…."

"Like who?" Sirius asked impatiently. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!" shouted Fred.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" George said, his voice breaking.

"Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order! This is how it is- this is why you're not in the Order- you don't understand- there are things worth dying for!"

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!" bellowed Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

The words were like a spark to kindling, and behind his eyes Sirius saw everything he'd sacrificed to defeat Voldemort. He'd lost friends. He'd lost Harry. He'd lost years of his life, locked in the torture that was Azkaban. He'd lost his freedom, then and now. He'd lost his dreams. He'd lost his faith. He'd nearly lost his soul. Dying would be easy compared to what he'd lost.

_He's scared. He's hurting. He's a child._ The words cut through the maelstrom of his thoughts, clear and washing over him, leaving him cold. He took a deep breath, and then another. "I know it's hard," he heard himself saying, and somehow he knew it would work, "but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?"

Ginny sat down first, and then Ron and Harry. Finally, the twins sat down, and Sirius breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's right," he said. "Come on. Let's all…" he cut himself off in shock right before he said the word _pray_. "Let's all have a drink while we're waiting. _Accio Butterbeer!_"

The Weasleys drank in silence, which was fine with Sirius. His own hands were trembling, and he was very glad none of the children were paying attention to him. _Let him be all right. Let him be all right. Please, please, please God. He's a good man. Don't fuck his life up, too. Let him be all right._ The words ran through his head on a loop that fumbled only when he looked at Harry, and his mind whispered thanks for Harry's safety.

***

The night stretched out, long and tense and silent. At one point, Sirius lifted his eyes and managed to catch George's. But George was still too upset for any sort of silent communion. He bowed his head again in acknowledgement.

***

But then the owl came, telling them that Arthur was still alive. It only worsened the children's tension, because now they could really imagine the worst, and they were powerless to stop it. He wanted to tell them it would all be okay, but he didn't want to lie to them either.

There was no comfort he could give, and that burned him up as much as being powerless in this house.

***

It was Molly who brought them all deliverance the next morning, when she came with the dawn and the good news that Arthur was safe and recovering. Sirius's soul bounded up and wagged his tail at the news. He closed his eyes and whispered a quiet, "Thank you."

He wasn't surprised when he saw George do the same.

***

Sirius felt guilty for being grateful that Arthur was in the hospital, but it did mean the Weasley family would stay for Christmas. It was the first Christmas Sirius could truly celebrate since… since 1980. And _that_ Christmas was… well…. They might not be able to recreate it, but at least Remus was here to share the Christmas with him.

No one could give him what he truly wanted, of course, but people tried. Harry gave him a book on motorbikes. Molly knit him a sweater with a dog on it. (Sirius didn't think he'd actually wear it, but he appreciated the thought.) Remus gave him small weaving from Morocco, which conjured up very pleasant memories indeed. But more than that, Sirius felt a part of the world and a family, and that was the greatest gift of all.

Until George, Arthur, and Kingsley caught him and Remus relaxing in the library.

"We have something for you," George said, his smile mischievous.

"Should I run or duck for cover?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

George laughed, and then handed Sirius a package. "We all know you never got the chance to get your collar before," he said. "So we thought we'd give you one now."

Sirius gave them all a quizzical look and then opened the package and burst into laughter. He took out the black dragon leather dog collar. "This is the last thing I expected," he said, and undid the buckle. He put it on, and Remus helped him fasten it. "Well?" he asked, "do I look Catholic?"

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," George laughed. "Come on, Dad. You'd better get back to bed or Mum will have both our hides."

"Merry Christmas," Kingsley told them both, and left the room behind the Weasleys.

Sirius turned to Remus. "Did you know anything about this?"

"No," Remus said, smiling. "This has George Weasley written all over it."

"It does." Sirius fingered the collar.

"I'm surprised you put it on."

"Too good a joke not to."

"Do you want me to help you take it off?"

Sirius considered. "No," he said finally. "I think I'll leave it where it is."

Remus smiled and kissed him softly. "I'm glad," he whispered. "I really am."

"I'm not making any statements, you know," Sirius said.

But Remus touched Sirius's cheek, and when his fingers drew away, a single tear glistened on them.

***

EPILOGUE

The kids were back at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's care. Kreacher wasn't muttering, and Mrs. Black's portrait was unusually silent. Most of the Order had gone home.

Arthur, Kingsley, Remus and George hadn't planned to meet. But somehow, they all found themselves in the library. George claimed he'd left a box of fireworks in there, Kingsley needed a book for his work, and Arthur had mislaid his glasses (they were on his head). Only Remus didn't make an excuse; he and Sirius had spent so much time in here that his spirit seemed to linger.

They stood looking at each other awkwardly. It felt like there was a giant hole in the circle, and they all ached for it.

"There should be a funeral," George said. "Or at least a wake. Or a memorial service. Or something."

"I guess that's why we're here," Arthur said quietly.

The awkward silence descended again, because none of them knew how to begin. George, Arthur, and Kingsley all felt Remus should be able to say something first, and Remus couldn't speak around the lump in his throat.

When the silence stretched too long, Kingsley began to sing.

The song was "Amazing Grace", and his voice was gentle and deep. After a few lines, George and then Arthur picked up the melody, George even managing a crude harmony. Kingsley managed to scroll the words so they could follow past the first verse. Finally, Remus joined in. But when they reached the verse

_"Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,  
And mortal life shall cease,  
I shall possess, within the veil,  
A life of joy and peace,"_

Remus began to laugh. The song frayed into discord as the others stared at him. And then George joined in.

"The veil," he whispered. "Tell me those words were made up."

Kingsley chuckled. "They aren't. I swear to God, that's the way the song goes."

The tension drained from the room, leaving them only with their grief and their memories. Remus sank down to sit on the sofa, and Kingsley sat on the desk. George stretched out on the floor. Arthur summoned a bottle of wine and five glasses, and poured them each one, leaving the last one in front of the seat where Sirius would have sat.

"To Sirius," Arthur said, holding up his glass, and the others echoed. Then he took off his glasses and laid them aside. They all sat in silence, respectful and sad and loving.. Then finally, it was Remus's voice that said,

"Let us pray."

 

End Notes:

1.) Yes, the talking in theaters deserves its own level in Hell is a reference to Shepherd Book's line in Firefly. Especially since he's right.

2.) The setting of the scene where Remus tells Sirius Harry's coming the next day is written with [](http://kasche.livejournal.com/profile)[**kasche**](http://kasche.livejournal.com/)'s [Godfathers](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_holidaygen/11572.html) in mind.

3.) Sirius's "Prove it" argument is taken from the movie adaptation of Carl Sagan's Contact.


End file.
